


Heartbeat in the Brain

by ghostvinyls (jebbyfish)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, HAHA lets get this shit show started, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, am i allowed to call this romcom, i hope my minor ships in here dont go into your main tags sorry!!!, thats gonna be a real good joke once u get it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-09-01 14:26:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8628028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jebbyfish/pseuds/ghostvinyls
Summary: Pidge heard, once, that you can tell a lot about your soulmate based on the words etched into your skin.Her soulmate?Clearly the biggest wad on planet Earth.(Crude language. Bad romcom. Fun AU, tbh.)





	1. A Literal Censor for your Skin

Pidge was completely, absolutely aware of the facts. The sky was blue. Grass? Green. Her brother? Total nuisance. And the most painfully obvious fact of all: she despised her soulmate and hasn’t even met them.

All thanks to the word branded on her skin, one tiny word etched into her side, just beneath her breast:

“Shit.”

Pidge heard, once, that you can tell a lot about your soulmate based on the words etched into your skin.

Her soulmate?

Clearly the biggest wad on planet Earth.

She was grateful it was easy to conceal. How lucky she was, to have that demonic word hiding beneath her clothes all her life. Shit. What kind of situation does she get herself into, that  _ this _ is the best first thing her soulmate could come up with?!

Pidge sometimes hoped that, whoever they were, had something far worse tattooed on their flesh. Perhaps a more creative, poetic string of curses. Yeah. Absolutely. Of course they did.

“Your face is going to get stuck like that.”

What?

She snapped her head up, focusing her attention towards the speaker. Matt, her brother, who had sat down a box on the floor of the small apartment. He wiped his brow, offering the younger a smile. Pidge wrinkled her nose in response.

“Quite the range of emotions you’re going through today, huh, Katie?”

Her face softened. “Sorry. I was just thinking about my stupid, stupid soulmate.”

“Ah. The Shitter.”

Pidge snorted at the nickname the siblings had come up for her mysterious soulmate. They had thought it up in high school, when Pidge was just entering her freshman year, worried out of her mind over meeting her soulmate at fourteen. Calling them a crude nickname made her feel a lot better, really.

Pidge felt a vibration in the pocket of her hoodie, withdrawing her phone to reveal a text from one of her new coworkers.

**_Hunk:_ ** _ Hey Pidge, when are u coming in? Everyone’s so excited 2 meet u, :-) _

She tapped out a quick reply-- _ I just got settled in here. Will be there soon. _

Pidge felt her heart skip a beat. She clenched her fists, staring down at them. Thanks to her father and brother’s positions at the Garrison headquarters, she got lucky enough to start work at one of the Garrison’s top agencies, Voltron. Pidge didn’t know a lot about Voltron; she knew they were a new branch, and that they specialized in a lot of things, from tech and science to diplomacy and charity. She knew it was a small team, and she was to work with the new tech and science they were testing out. 

Unfortunately, Voltron was located far from their home in Oregon, and Pidge found herself shipped out to the big city. Alone.

At least, she wasn’t alone for the weekend, what with Matt helping her get settled in.

“You look like you’re about to barf.”

Pidge made a mental note to forget any sentimentality she had towards her brother.

“I just got a text from one of my new coworkers. Asking where I am.”

“Ah. Do they want you to get down to work?”

“Yeah. First day, am I right?” Pidge let out a nervous laugh, crossing the room to her small kitchen, where her backpack had been thrown over the counter.

“You’re going to do great. These Voltron guys are going to love you.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re my brother.”

“Maybe a little bit.”

The two departed the apartment, walking down the tight flight of stairs in the building and out onto the busy city streets,scurrying down the sidewalk. It was late September, and the leaves on the trees were fading into soft shades of red and orange. The air was crisp and clean. Pidge loved the fall, if she was honest. Spring made her allergies act up. Summer was uncomfortably warm. Winter, far too cold. Fall was just right.

“You think you’ll meet them here?” Matt was suddenly asking, keeping up with Pidge’s wide strides (despite her small stature), a smile forming on his face.

“Who? Shitter?”

“Who else?”

“I haven’t met them yet, so, a good probability. But I hope not.”

“Really? Okay. We haven’t talked seriously about your whole soulmate issue, so let’s have at it.”

Pidge rolled her eyes at her brother as they came to a crosswalk, waiting with other pedestrians for the light to turn. Easy for him to say, she figured. Matt had nice words on his bicep-- “where did you get your jacket?”-- and had already found his soulmate. The answer was “Macy’s,” scrawled on his boyfriend’s wrist in Matt’s unmistakable curve. He was lucky. They were lucky. Neither of them got stuck with the Shitter.

“What’s there to talk about? I’ve got bigger things to worry about, Matt. Like Voltron, for example. I’m sure the Shitter can wait for me.”

Matt gave her an apologetic smile. She wasn’t a fan of that smile. It carried too much pity for her, and did so without having to say a single word.

“Mom says you should give them a chance, if you do find them.”

“You say that like I have a choice not to.”

“Well, Katie, I think she means that you’re not a very good people person.”

“Wow, fresh observation. Next you’re going to tell me that I need a better haircut.”

Pidge almost didn’t see the office at first; it was a squat office building, a sign in one of the windows advertising VOLTRON INDUSTRIES in big, bold letters, words spiking out of the roaring visage of a lion. She stopped listening to what Matt was saying, navigating the sidewalk to enter the building.

“Welcome to Voltron Industries!” Chirped a voice from the round disk in the center of the room. A mustached man sat there, grinning widely at the two siblings. “Which one of you is Kaitlyn Holt?”

Pidge raised a sheepish hand, exchanging a quick glance with Matt. “Uh, I am. But you can call me Pidge.”

The man’s corners of his mustache seemed to turn up, and he swept around the table in boisterous grandeur-- he sure knew how to bring drama, Pidge deduced. The man extended a hand, eyes twinkling.

“Alright then, Pidge! You can call me Coran. I dabble in a lot of fields here at Voltron.”

Pidge offered her hand, smiling. “Dabble, huh?”

“Certainly. We try to run a tight ship here, and that means all hands on deck.” A wink. Pidge liked the old man. “Is this your brother? The famed Matthew Holt?”

“‘Famed’ is a strong word, sir,” Matt said, a soft laugh in his voice. “But yeah. I’m Matt. Thank you guys for hiring my sister.”

“Nonsense. She has exemplary marks from her schooling. We love having bright, young minds here. You’re fresh out of university, correct Pidge?”

“Uh,” Pidge managed, nodding her head. “Yeah.”

Pidge wasn’t much of a bragger when it came to school; it wasn’t her fault that education came naturally to her. She was a double major, in physics and engineering. Skipped a grade, graduated at twenty years old instead of twenty-one. A university social life? Nonexistent. Not in her calculations.

She stopped paying attention to Coran, who was now blabbering on to Matt. Her eyes traced the corners of the main floor. It was white, clean. Futuristic, if she dared say. A single potted fern in the corner of the room that looked less-than-real. Ugly, splattered paintings on the wall to give it more of a dental office feeling than that of a government branch. She shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her olive-toned hoodie, anxious to see more of the building.

“So, Pidge, ready for the tour?”

Pidge blinked up at the older man, raising a hand to push her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. The anxiety she was feeling earlier had come back full force, twisting knots hard in her stomach, rolling up into her throat, scratching upon the surface of her skin. She begged for her voice to work, but all she managed was a nod.

“Great! Matthew, would you care to join us?”

_ Please say yes. _

“Actually, Katie, if you don’t mind, I was gonna go back to your place and get some of your things unpacked. You know, less work for you.”

_ Fuck. _

“Sure,” her voice came out low. She cleared her throat, hard. “Just text me, okay?”

“No problem.” Matt opened his arms wide, grinning. “One hug before you go.”

“You’re a loser.” She walked into his embrace, squeezing her arms tight around her older brother. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Good luck. And, oh, thank you, Coran.”

They parted with a few small waves, before Coran turned away to face an elevator, pounding the ‘up’ button.

“Your brother is a nice fellow.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you excited to tour our offices?”

“Mhm. Mostly for the labs.”

“Oh! You’ll love the labs. State of the art equipment, I’m sure you’re no stranger to.”

She let out a laugh. “I wish. I’m itching to get to work.”

The elevator dinged, the door sliding open to invite the pair in. Coran pressed the button to the second floor.

“Well, Allura encourages creativity, using your skills to your best ability.”

“Ah. Is Allura--?”

“Your boss? Yes. Manages this place. You’ll like her.”

Pidge felt the anxious knots in her chest begin to subside. Coran was kind, and she was grateful for the kindness on her first day.

There was another ding, and the elevator opened onto a different room. It was wide, open, with the large windows she saw outside letting in floods of natural light onto the workspace. Clean, pristine white walls covered in notes and blueprints and pictures. Industrial fans spinning slowly on the ceiling. Tables covered in more blueprints, parts, laptops opened on a few desks. The setting was surprisingly colorful, with colorful chairs, bean bags, decorations adorning the wide room. Pidge noticed the transparent, wheeled whiteboards, two empty, two scribbled on. The latest top 40 hits playing quietly across the floor. A ping pong table at one corner, with a turned off flatscreen nearby. She turned her head to find part of one wall decked out to be a kitchen, could smell freshly brewed coffee, a person working the machine.

“Woah.” Was all that came out of her mouth.

“What do you think?”

“Uh, incredible. This isn’t… like a normal lab.”

“Nope! It’s kind of a hodge podge of everything. We have a normal lab upstairs, but you’ll be doing most of your work here.”

“Uh huh.”

“Hey, Pidge!”

The voice shook Pidge from her stupor. She focused again on the person brewing coffee. Tall, wide. A wide grin on his face, a yellow beanie over dark hair. She recognized him from video chatting.

“Hi, Hunk.”

The larger came over, outstretching his arms to wrap Pidge in a tight hug.

“Man, it’s so good to see you in the flesh! Though, really, I thought you’d be taller.”

She let out a laugh at the larger, wriggling to be released from his grasps. “I’m tall enough! Five foot perfect.”

Hunk let out a snort, raising a hand to Coran. “Did you think she’d be taller?”

Coran shrugged. “I try not to make assumptions until seen. But I didn’t realize you two were speaking. Are you--?”

Pidge shook her head, hard, already knowing what the old man was trying to imply. “Not at all. Hunk told me your boss wanted him to talk to me first, since he’s the other tech guy here.”

Hunk nodded in agreement. “Yep. Thanks for trying, though.”

Coran rolled his eyes. “Well, I like to try.”

Pidge stole a look at Hunk, who noticed her. He winked, mouthing, “we can talk about it later.”

It never occurred to her the big guy might not have met his soulmate yet, either. Of course, she shouldn’t have been so shocked; she had pushed back the problem with soulmates far into the back of her mind that she often seemed to forget that most people her age were in her same position. Soulmate-less.

A beep came from Coran’s chest pocket. He withdrew a pager, reading it quickly before nodding up at the two young adults. “My apologies. I have to make a call with clients right now. Hunk, can you take over the tour for me?”

“You got it, boss.”

“Thank you. It was nice meeting you, Pidge. We’ll talk later!”

The man pushed hurriedly on the down button of the escalator, escaping, leaving the pair alone in the wide office space. Hunk let out a low whistle.

“So, there’s not really much to tour. This is kind of the entire thing. Coffee?”

“Yeah. Thanks. Where is everyone else?”

“Allura and Shiro are in a meeting, and Keith and Lance went to get lunch. You’re going to love everyone. Probably.”

Pidge nodded, following the taller into the kitchen space, watching as he pulled two mugs from a cabinet and began to pour coffee.

“So, that’s what? Seven people including me?”

“Yep. Real small team, right? I’ll be glad to have another tech person around.”

“The others don’t do tech?”

“Not really. Allura kind of does, but she’s in charge of everything so she doesn’t have a lot of time to help out. Coran’s techie, but he’s usually doing his own thing. Do you do cream and sugar?”

“Just cream, thanks. And the others?”

“Shiro’s like, assistant boss. You’ll like him. He takes over when Allura’s busy. Keith’s quiet, does a lot of the website stuff and organizational things. Lance… sticks his hand in too many baskets. Mostly in charge of events, but helps with anything. Don’t let him near the tech stuff, though.”

Pidge snorted, taking the mug offered to her. “That’s a lot to keep track of.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

The elevator dinged, again, and Pidge listened as two voices began to flood into the room.

“I’m just saying. Ice powers are way, way cooler than fire powers. Pun totally intended.”

“What’s so great about making everything cold?”

“Uhm, frozen hot chocolate.”

“That’s what you’re going to use your ice powers for? Frozen hot chocolate?”

“Obviously. What are you doing with fire powers?”

“Kicking ass and taking names.”

“Sure, doofus.”

The pair turned the corner, and Pidge raised her eyebrows at the spectacle. Two boys, much taller than her, but not much older. One dressed in black, a motorcycle jacket tossed over his shoulder, balancing a box of metal trays in one hand-- Pidge wouldn’t admit it to him, but she thought he looked kind of cool. The other was taller than him, a shit eating grin on his face, dressed in comfortable greys and blues, brown hair in disarray. The brown haired boy raised a hand to Hunk.

“Hey dude! We got Chipotle. Burrito bowls. They’re all pretty much the same, so yanno.”

“Thanks, Lance.” Hunk answered, then indicated Pidge. “Did you pick one up for the new kid?”

“New kid--?” Lance began, and then his gaze finally fell on Pidge.

She felt anxious, under the new guy’s scrutiny. His dark blue eyes widened at her, mouth dropping a little. What was he--

_ “Shit.” _

She froze.

_ No. _

“I totally forgot she was coming in today. Keith, did we get an extra bowl?”

“Uh, no. I didn’t even know we had a new hire.”

“Dude, do you not read the company emails?”

This had to be some real fucked, cruel joke.

A tingle began on her skin, right beneath her breast where that one word was scrawled. A word that made her despise her soulmate from the start, because what kind of person opens with the word “shit”?

_ Maybe it’s just a fluke. Flukes happen all the time. Dad’s is ‘pardon me!’ for fuck’s sake! _

A hand was suddenly thrust in front of her eyes. Pidge raised her head to look again at Lance, the boy who said the one word she had been dreading her whole life.

She wanted to hate him.

“Sorry about not getting you a burrito bowl. I’m Lance.”

She really, really wanted to despise him. And it had nothing to do with forgetting she was coming, forgetting a burrito bowl.

_ Shit. _

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO. WOW. HEY GUYS.  
> i spent so long, debating on if i wanted to do a soulmark fic. i have so many opinions about soulmark fics. but heyyy yanno what i love having fun and this should be fun  
> super sorry for huge exposition chapter!! there's a lot of building and thinkin that had to go into this. things more or less happen in the next chapter (though, really, that's probably a lot of exposition too.)  
> thank you for reading!!! hugs and kisses and all that good stuff. <3


	2. The Power to Hurt

The words hit him like a ton of bricks.

Lance didn’t imagine it going down like this. He daydreamed a lot about meeting his soulmate, so he knew exactly how it should’ve gone down. He would’ve said something romantic, literally sweeping them off their feet. A dramatic touch of their cheek. They’d swoon, and in their bliss would whisper out those words, “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” because Lance was just so suave and handsome and obviously they’d be drooling over his every wake.

Obviously.

But instead, the words came out blunt and harsh. A slap in the face from the short statured girl with wide brown eyes and even wider glasses frames. Her hair was a mess, curling up in all sorts of places. She was boyish, Lance noticed, small-chested and not very curvy. Her brows were furrowed, studying his face. He thought about the words she just spoke, those same words that looped in thin, no-nonsense type between his shoulder blades.

It could just be a fluke. Flukes happened all the time.

Besides, she’s not his type.

Lance tried his best to keep a straight face, but Lance’s problem was that he was too emotional, and his surprise showed clear as day.

Focus; not on the soulmark thing.

“Are you… are you really that mad about Chipotle? We can seriously go back and buy you one, no biggie.”

Smooth. Good keeping up of his composure, ten out of ten skill.

Her expression softened. His hand was still outstretched.

“Oh, uh. Sorry about the outburst. I ate before I got here.”

She clasped his hand. Lance noticed, immediately, how small her fist was, the callouses on her fingers, the warmth in her touch.

He hurried the thought away.

“I’m Kaitlyn, but most people call me Pidge.”

Lance grinned at her. “Not Katie?”

“Katie’s reserved for loved ones, not coworkers.”

Lance let out a snort, then twisted his head to Keith. “So, gonna say hi to the girl you forgot about?”

Keith stared at the two, shrugging. “Hi, Pidge.”

Pidge offered Keith a sheepish wave. “Yo.”

He remembered the first time he saw the words on his skin. Soulmarks took their time to show up for people, Lance remembered. That it was the world’s way of figuring out who belonged to who, if they belonged to anyone at all. He had ran to his mother in excitement, pointing at the words that his older sister had noticed first. She had clasped her hand over her mouth, and demanded for Lance to keep quiet about them; not because she didn’t want him finding his soulmate, no, but because… well…

_ “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” _ wasn’t the most eloquent or polite thing to see on your five year old son’s back.

He was a romantic at heart. Daydreamed about his soulmate as often as he could. Reminisced loudly about them to his coworkers and friends, much to their chagrin.

“What are you going to do when you meet them?” Hunk had asked once, not looking up at Lance from his laptop.

“Uh, propose?” Lance had quipped. Hunk snorted.

“Dude, you’re way oversimplifying it. This is love we’re talking about. Soulmates. You can’t just propose and expect everything to be all good.”

“Yeah I can.  _ Because _ it’s love we’re talking about.  _ Soulmates.” _

Soulmates.

An hour ago, Lance would’ve been gushing about them. How excited he was to one day find his. Hoping every beautiful girl or handsome guy he met, that saying one of his favorite pick-up lines would let the light in their eyes shine and he would know they were the one.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” was real easy to spin in a romantic light.

This, though? Finding out your possible soulmate was just your coworker? Not romantic. Like, at all.

It had to be a fluke.

Pidge wasn’t making any indication that Lance was her soulmate, anyway.

A total fluke.

A ding of the elevator, four pairs of eyes floating to the opening doors as Shiro walked in, focusing hard on his phone.

“Shiro!” Lance blurted, forcing the older man to look up. Lance was grateful for the boss’s appearance. Having him around always forced Lance to work, not think too hard, and right now, Lance didn’t want to think too hard. “Look, it’s the newbie!”

Shiro blinked at Lance, turning to where he was indicating. He lifted his left arm, the prosthetic. “Oh! Kaitlyn. Do you remember me?”

Pidge blinked, looking the man up and down. He did look familiar, what with his broad frame and dark hair. “Takashi?”

A laugh from Shiro, who slipped his phone into his pocket, closing the gap between himself and the group. “Yeah. I was hoping you’d remember. You got taller.”

Pidge felt herself smile at him. She remembered; he, her father, and Matt worked together overseas. She had met him once before, at a holiday party. She didn’t remember the prosthetic, the white streak of hair, the scar on his face. It had been a few years.

“You got… older.” She used to have a crush on him, like how most kids had crushes on their older sibling’s friends. Shiro offered her a smile, another soft laugh. He was just like she remembered.

“I see you’ve met most of us. These guys haven’t caused you trouble, right?”

Pidge stole a quick glance at Lance, who was preoccupying himself with sorting through burrito bowls. The  _ Shitter. _

She shook her head.

“Nope. All good here.”

“Great! I have another meeting to go to, just came by to grab lunch.” Shiro quipped, leaning around Pidge to take two foil containers from Lance’s hands. “Thanks for grabbing these, you guys.”

“No problemo. Although, I think I deserve a raise for riding backseat on Keith’s bike.” Lance said coolly, his eyes flicking to glare in Keith’s direction. Keith rolled his eyes.

“Lance wanted to go on my bike.”

“I wanted to  _ drive it, _ Keith. Not wrap my arms around you and ride backseat.”

“You don’t have a motorcycle license, first of all. Second--”

“Okay, that’s enough. Both of you have work to do.” Shiro interrupted the brewing argument between the two boys, balancing the burrito bowls in one as he gestured between the two. “When Allura and I get back, we expect you working hard, capiche?”

Silence passed between the two boys, who scrutinized each other harshly.

“I guess.” Lance finally said, to which Keith rolled his eyes.

“Good. Kaitlyn?” Shiro turned back around to address her, and Pidge jumped at hearing her name.

“Pidge is dandy. Fine. Cool. But, uh, yeah?” She blabbered, raising a hand to push on her frames, hoping she was looking way more dandy, fine, and cooler than how she was feeling. Shiro’s smile was warm.

“You’re in good hands with these losers. Be back in a couple of hours. Don’t break shit.”

The boys around her sounded out monotonous goodbyes as Shiro disappeared again through the doors of the elevator. Keith and Lance swept away from the kitchen, picking up where their discussion had left off about ice versus fire power. Hunk gave Pidge a pat on the back.

“You okay there, Pidge?”

“Uh. Yeah. Just thinking.” She was not thinking. She had to do everything in her power  _ not _ to think. Because if she started thinking, she’d start thinking about her old, dumb, kid crush on Takashi, and then her soulmark, and about that big stupid idiot that just said that one stupid word--

_ Shit. _

“Alright, well, you can start helping me out with this stuff-- we’re building a robot. Kind of.”

_ That _ stole her interest. She began to follow Hunk to one of the further away tables, where blueprints and parts were stacked on and around it.

“A robot?”

“Yeah. A little AI pyramid. I’m more of a fix-it guy than a build-it guy, so we figured…”

“I could take a look.” Pidge finished the sentence for him, coming around the table to scrutinize the blueprints spread out. It was a cute little thing, Pidge admitted to herself. A nice distraction from the horror of the last fifteen minutes of her life. “Huh. Seems the plans are missing something.”

“Oh?” There was a tinge of worry in the older’s voice. Pidge raised her hands, smiling.

“I-it’s really no big deal! I can probably figure it out from here. Is it cool if I sit?”

“Huh. Confidence. I like you.” Hunk stood aside, patting a sleek green chair, indicating Pidge to sit there. “I’m just gonna sit next to you and run some math, cool?”

“Cool.”

The room grew quiet again, save for the soft bass of some radio hit thrumming in the background. A soft tapping of keyboards and murmurs of calculations. Pidge read over the blueprints a few times, then spent the next few minutes messing with the parts, fitting things together, glancing down whenever she needed to. The technical stuff came easy to her.

“Oh yeah. Wanna talk soulmates?”

She almost snapped the wires in her fingers. Pidge turned her head quickly to Hunk, who was watching her, chin in hand, a bemused light in his eye.

“Why are you asking?” Pidge began, slowly. Hunk gave her a shrug, twisting to face the excel spreadsheet open on his laptop.

“I just remembered Coran earlier, thinking you and I were soulmates.”

“Oh.” She was trying hard to block everything involving soulmates out of her memory. Damn Hunk. To hell.

“So, met yours yet?” Hunk was casual about the whole thing, as if the topic of soulmates was a normal part of day to day. Of course, it was. Pidge didn’t know a day she didn’t go around hearing people talking about romance and soulmates.

She realized, then, she had no idea how to answer that question.

She couldn’t say yes. Not when he was probably in the same room. “No,” was an easy out, of course, but… did she? Maybe she was right-- it could be a fluke.

But if it wasn’t?

“No,” she decided, quickly. “Have you?”

“Not yet. Care to share your first words?”

“We just officially met, so uh, I have to decline.”

“Fair enough. Mine are bogus.”

“The word ‘bogus’?”

That earned her a laugh. “I wish. That’d make me feel a lot better than, ‘it’s a pleasure to meet you, Hunk.’”

“Yikes. At least they’re polite.”

It was a lot better than hers. But Pidge felt for him, really. The kindness of strangers didn’t go very far when it came to meeting your soulmate-- especially if you return that kindness. She remembered a story, about two women who never even realized they were soulmates because of how courteous and common their first words to each other were. It took them months to realize it.

Hunk was kind. She prayed, quietly, that he and his soulmate would realize it quick.

“You ever daydream about them?”

Her eyes flitted to Hunk, who was still focused on his work.

“Don’t have time to.”

“Seriously? Not even a little?”

“Maybe when I was younger.”

“Oh yes. Do tell me what Pidge’s baby heart desired from her true love.”

“Soulmate doesn’t equal true love, first of all. Secondly, they’re embarrassing childhood fantasies, Hunk. None of them were good.”

“Bet they’re better than Lance’s current fantasies.”

“Heard that,” Pidge jumped at the sound of Lance’s voice. He was hovering near their worktable, a mug in his hands, frown on his face. He pointed a finger accusingly at Hunk. “My fantasies have been dreams since childhood, Hunk. Aged like fine wine. Better the older I get.”

“Oh, really?” Hunk leaned forward, grinning. “Do enlighten me again. And, of course, enlighten our new buddy Pidge, here.”

Pidge, of course, didn’t want to be enlightened. Not when her probably-soulmate was standing two feet away from her, ready to talk about all of his hopes and dreams about their relationship right in front of her.

It sent a shiver down her spine.

The not-so-pleasant kind.

Lance must’ve sensed her discomfort, because his expression changed upon seeing the girl’s face. He shot Hunk a look, shaking his head.

“Nah. You’ll probably be able to predict all my lines by this point, buddy.”

She looked up at him, surprised by the words. For a second, their eyes locked. She ignored the fact of another matter, a totally unrelated matter of her heart skipping beats.

“Thank you,” she mouthed. A wink. A “you-owe-me-later-dude” kind of wink.

Pidge could only count her graces for so long. As soon as Hunk was rejected by Lance, he focused his attention back to Pidge like a dog.

“Your turn.”

“What?” Her pitch rose with the word, and she quickly hovered a hand over her mouth. “No way. Ten-year-old me was weird.”

“You’re like, what? Twenty now? You can totally handle childhood embarrassment.”

“Counter: I still look ten.”

Lance had to cackle at the statement, which earned him a couple of glares from the mechanic pair. “Sorry. I was just going to say you look…”

Lance caught himself. An awkward pause. He twisted his head at Pidge, hoping she didn’t notice that he was… looking at her. He took a sip of his coffee.

“Not finishing that sentence, are we?” Pidge said, a grin forming on her face.

“Nope. You look like you’re going to punch me no matter what direction I go with it, so I’m exercising my right to remain silent.”

“Good idea. Although,” she paused, pushing her glasses up with her pinky. Was she doing that with her pinky earlier, too? “I prefer not to throw punches.”

Lance decided he would’ve preferred being clocked in the face by Pidge Holt over her snarking at him, any day.

However, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to call that feeling ‘love,’ just yet. Couldn’t decide if he wanted to call her his soulmate, just yet.

There were a lot of things he couldn’t make his mind up about.

A familiar ding forced Lance to look away from Pidge (thank you, whatever God was out there,) and look towards the elevator. Shiro, Allura.

“Afternoon, Paladins!” The greeting came loud and clear through the room before Allura crossed the elevator threshold. She was beaming at them, blue eyes wide and sparkling. “Another successful meeting with clients today. I’m sure all of your work has been going swimmingly as well.”

“Roger that, princess.” Lance quipped, giving the older woman a wink. She made a face at him, one that was entirely graceful and teasing him all at once. Lance was, unsurprising to no one, smitten with their boss. She was regal, smart, beautiful. Carried herself like a goddess. He’d gladly worship the ground she walked on if it wasn’t totally weird to do that to someone that paid him.

Unless, of course, it got him a raise.

“So, where is she?” Allura was speaking again, smiling widely. Lance stole a look behind him at Pidge, who was watching the girl in awe.

“She’s talking about you,” Lance said, leaning across the table to tap Pidge’s shoulder.

A blink. Registration of her surroundings. Pidge threw Lance a grateful look before clearing her throat.

“I’m, uh, right here.”

If Allura’s smile could grow any wider, it did. “Splendid! Kaitlyn, correct?”

“Y-yeah. You can just say Pidge. Everyone else does.”

“Pidge,” Allura tested, nodding exuberantly. “I like it. How are you settling in, love?”

“Fine. Fun work you’ve got here. Super… uh. Super. Just super.”

Pidge wanted to sock herself. Hard. In the face.

Allura seemed, however, oblivious to her awkwardness. Another exuberant nod. Pidge wondered if her boss was just extremely agreeable and happy all the time.

That’d be nice. A far off dream, but a nice one.

“Great. Please continue to work hard. If any of you need me, I’ll be in my office. Oh, and Lance?” She had raised a hand to the blue-cladded boy, her smile still soft and sweet.

“Yeah?” Lance waited.

“Last I checked, your desk was near Keith.”

And with that, the woman disappeared behind a door on the other side of the floor. Lance grinned.

“She’s in a great mood. Usually she’d be dragging me over there herself.”

“Which I have no problem doing,” Shiro, who had been standing quietly near the elevator, finally said. Lance shrugged at him.

“I’m taking a break. They say if you don’t take a computer break once in a while--”

“Mhm. Back to work.”

Lance rolled his eyes, turning to Hunk and Pidge with a grin. “See you guys in twenty minutes.”

“Forty.”

“Thirty-five, final offer.”

Shiro snorted, awaiting for Lance to waltz back to where he sat, before addressing Hunk and Pidge. “Doing okay, you two?”

“More than okay. Got Pidge working on the little AI. Look at all her sweet, sweet progress, Shiro.” Hunk gushed, gazing down at the little mechanism in front of Pidge. She shrugged.

“Not too difficult to accomplish, once you figure out what’s missing from the prints.” Pidge managed, looking down at her handiwork.

“Glad to see it working out for you. What do you think of Allura?”

“Allura? Oh, she’s,” Pidge shrugged, a small smile forming on her lips. “Very cool. I mean, whoever her soulmate is must be super lucky. I’m a little jealous.”

Shiro gave her a wink. “I am. Though if you want to arm wrestle for her, I’m down.”

“Wait--” Oh. “What?”  _ Oh. _

He let out a laugh, and despite the humor and joy in it, Pidge couldn’t help but feel it crushing her.

She wasn’t bitter, of course, that Takashi and Allura were soulmates. She was happy for them, happy for her family friend. But he was just another person she knew and cared for that was able to find their soulmate.

She didn’t like it, when that feeling of loneliness barrelled into her heart. Not when she tried to spend as much time as she could not worrying about it. She’d find a way to die alone, and be satisfied with the way she spent her life, she had decided her freshman year of college. A soulmate was just a person. A person that she didn’t need to survive. A person that didn’t need to occupy her every wake, every fiber of her being thinking about. Soulmates were hindrances. Soulmates didn’t have the power to hurt if you didn’t give it to them.

And yet, here she was, giving them power. Giving that stupid word power.

A total fucking hindrance on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [sticks leg up in air] hey guys how you doin' haha hope it's gud i know i'm gud  
> next time: lance is even more of a hindrance than pidge bargained for  
> (thank u for the kudos & comments on chapter 1,,, bless up on soulmark au)


	3. Just Desserts

It was a long, draining week.

Pidge was grateful for the weekend, finally, away from work and grind and deadlines to focus on cleaning her apartment up. It was a little victory, that she and Matt managed to unpack everything and have some arrangement to her small space. (In any case, it was Matt who did most of the heavy lifting.)

She had collided with her sofa as soon as she came home, much in the same way planetesimals collided billions of years before to form planets. Her legs ached, something she didn’t really notice before until she was lying here, face down in the cushions.

“Are you trying to suffocate yourself?” Matt’s voice suddenly came through, and Pidge responded with a heavy groan.

“I wish.”

“Was your first week really that bad?”

There was disbelief in Matt’s voice, flat and sarcastic. She turned her face away from the cushions to regard him, standing there in his old Stanford hoodie and striped pajama pants, a smile on his face, a mug in his hands.

“No,” Pidge finally agreed. It wasn’t a bad week. In fact, for Pidge, her first week on the job was perhaps some of the most fun weeks she’s ever had in her life.

“And Lance?”

She kicked at him, not hard, but enough to force her brother to step back with a laugh. It was the first day she broke the “news” to him, about Lance being her probably-soulmate.

“I don’t get why you’re so upset by this. He’s your soulmate,” Matt had quipped, steeping a tea bag in his favorite mug as Pidge paced the small expanse of her kitchen. “If I was in your shoes, I’d tell him.”

“It’s not that easy. He’s a coworker. A coworker, and also, it was probably a fluke.”

“Okay. First of all, Shiro and Allura are also coworkers, so I  _ know _ that’s not the real issue here. Second of all, how often has a person gone up to you and verbalized the word ‘shit’ as an icebreaker?”

She hated when Matt had a point.

“So, what did you say back? I want to know what that poor guy had to grow up with.”

Pidge inhaled, slow, stopping her pacing to meet her brother’s eyes. Her hands formed into fists. A cough. A mutter: “I said, ‘you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.’”

Matt had choked on his oolong.

He was laughing now, a week later. Pidge was almost itching for him to fly back home and leave her to her own devices.

“Wanna go out and celebrate?” Matt suddenly asked. She raised a brow at him.

“Celebrate?”

“A successful first week. I mean, you’ve got a great job, a could-be-better-but-good-for-now apartment, and you probably met your soulmate. I think this week calls for some form of celebration.”

She kind of really hated when Matt had a point. Pidge sat up slowly, adjusting her glasses, rolling her shoulders. She ran a hand through her hair, pondering.

“Would ice cream be inappropriate when it’s like sixty degrees outside?”

“Ice cream is never inappropriate. Give me a few minutes to get changed and I’ll treat you, okay?”

Matt disappeared around the corner, and Pidge leaned hard into the cushions.

 

“Okay, you piece of shit cat. Come inside. Right now.”

Blue licked her paws in response to Lance’s demands. Of course she did. She was a piece of shit cat who never listened to a word he said.

Which was exactly why she was sitting out on the fire escape, sauntering too close to the steps for Lance’s comfort. Lance let out an angry groan, stepping back into the apartment to reevaluate his entire life-- like, for example, why the hell did he adopt a cat?

He almost slid into the kitchen, hoping he still had a few cans of her favorite canned wet food to entice the cruel, fluffy beast. His quest was successful, finding one last can of Fancy Feast under his sink. Lance scrambled quickly back towards the window, grateful to find Blue still sitting there, patient. He waved the can in front of her.

“Lookie lookie! Look what Lance brought for his favorite kitty!” He knew the baby talk was useless on the tuxedo, but he gave it a shot anyway. With barely another glance up, Lance cracked the can open, knowing the sound would alert Blue to the treat. Her ears had perked. It was a foolproof plan.

Lance set the can on the floor, and to his relief, the cat landed back in his room, the bell around her neck jingling in appreciation. He let out a sigh, slamming the window shut.

“Thank god.”

The cat gave no response.

He watched her for a few quiet minutes, appreciating the moment they were having. Lance would’ve never guessed he was a cat person, of course, until Blue came into his life. Lance wondered, when he first saw her, if ‘meow,’ actually translated into ‘you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.’ Because hey, Blue was as good a soulmate as any.

He felt his spine tingle.

Soulmate. Pidge. Right.

Lance was doing a good job of pretending Pidge wasn’t his probably-soulmate. He spent the week getting to know her, of course, because now they were coworkers and could easily be friends. But every time he felt even a smidge of affection towards, Pidge, well.

He crushed them like grapes.

It wasn’t at all because he didn’t want Pidge to be his soulmate, Lance convinced himself. No, he’d be cool if she was. Pidge was cool, and funny, tough, and pretty. But Lance chalked up a lot of his resistance towards other feelings.

Like resentment. And loneliness. Not towards Pidge. No, Lance had no reason to harbor resentment towards her, or anyone really. He kind of wish he did though, because he knew by now that sometimes it was a lot easier to blame the world for shit rather than blame himself.

He crushed these feelings like grapes, too.

“You need cat food.” Lance mused outloud to Blue. She was good on dry, of course, but Lance needed more bribery Fancy Feast for the next time the cat thought it’d be funny to run out on him again. He quickly grabbed his keys, slipped into sneakers and his favorite jacket, and out the door he was.

Lance liked to take walks for himself. It kept him sane. Even when the elevator clunked and groaned as it descended towards the lobby. He was ready for the doors to slide open, once the light hit the star to indicate he was on the first floor of the building.

He stepped out, prepared for anything.

And in that exact moment, a familiar five-foot-perfect tall person and someone that looked just like her walked out of the stairs entrance.

Perhaps, almost anything.

“Pidge?”

The girl froze. A slow turn away from the person she was talking to, brown eyes widening as she met his dark blue ones. Her jaw had gone slack.

“You’ve got to be _ absolutely fucking kidding.” _

The words weren’t almost the same, but Jesus Christ, close enough to cause the familiar words on his spine to tingle.

“Is that your catchphrase or something?” Lance said quickly. Pidge furrowed her brows.

“No. What are you doing in my building?”

“Feeding my cat. In my building.”

They realized it at the exact same time.

Pidge wondered, quietly, if she was having a nightmare. She’d be content with all of this being some very terrible nightmare. After all, Lance couldn’t be her neighbor, right? It was already enough that he was her coworker, already enough that he was her soulmate. Couldn’t she just have one place of peace away from him? Or, dear Lord, was that just too much to ask?

“Uhm,” Matt suddenly said, and Pidge whipped her head to face her older brother, who was staring at Lance with curiosity. “I’m sorry. Pidge, who’s this?”

“Yeah, Pidge. Who’s this?” Lance said, and Pidge also wondered, quietly, how many years she’d spend in jail if she were to just stab him right here and run.

“Uh, this is my brother Matt. He’s helping me get settled. And, uh, Matt?” Pidge pointed at Lance, reluctant, giving her brother a hard gaze. “This is Lance, coworker.”

Matt’s eyebrows lifted, looking between the pair. He pursed his lips together, nodding slowly.

_ Please don’t say jackshit, Matt. I have dirt on you. Dirt I’m not afraid to drop on the internet,  _ Pidge pleaded internally, hoping she and Matt had some kind of telepathic sibling connection. It was a moment before Matt did anything.

He stuck his hand out towards Lance, smiling.

“Nice to attach a face to the name, finally. Hi Lance.”

Lance took his hand, giving it a slow, firm shake.

“Hey, Matt. That’s a pretty suspicious thing to say.”

“Oh, I’ve just heard a lot about you. A-and everyone else, of course.”

_ Nice save, _ Pidge thought bitterly, shoving her hands into her pockets. The only thing worse he could do right now was--

“We were just about to go for ice cream. Care to join us? If you’re not busy, that is.”

_ That. _

Lance quirked an eyebrow, folding his hands over his chest. He looked down at Pidge, clearly waiting for her to say something. That wasn’t new. Lance did that a lot at work too, looking to Pidge when it came to questions and conversation, waiting to her what she had to say. It was like he really wanted to hear what Pidge had to say. Like he valued her opinion. Pidge would be lying if she said she didn’t appreciate the gesture; she was an introvert at her core, unwilling to add to the conversation if she felt she couldn’t. And for Lance to want to include her opinion… it was sort of sweet. And here he was again, waiting for her to say something.

“You really are welcome.” Pidge found herself saying despite her brain screaming at her to reject her brother’s invitation. Was she just being dumb and nice, or something?

“In that case, yeah. I could go for a double-scoop.” Lance threw her an irritatingly radiant smile, proceeding to walk towards the doors. “I know a great place, that is, if you guys didn’t already have something in mind.”

“Oh! We didn’t. We’re not that familiar with the city, so we were just going to pick a direction and walk.” Matt replied with a laugh, tugging at Pidge’s sleeve to follow. He leaned down, speaking low. “Speaking of walk, walk with him.”

“What fresh hell are you spouting?” Pidge hissed back. Matt shrugged.

“I dunno, Pidge. But if he’s your--”

“Don’t say it.”

“Fine. But maybe instead of trying to be distant, close the distance.”

Matt gave her a gentle push forward. Pidge wanted to kick him in the shins.

Lance was also, by the way, outrageously tall. He had at least a foot on her in height. She stared at his back, hard, trying to speed up to walk alongside him to appease her brother. It took a moment to walk side-by-side with him, what with the ungodly speed Lance moved, but soon she was next to him, keeping up with his stride rather well.

“So, what floor do you live on?” Pidge managed. Lance looked over at her, smiling.

“Why? Wanna come over?”

“Ew. No, just curious. I’m on three.”

“Four. It brings me great pleasure to know I live above you.”

“Ah, certainly elevates your ego.”

Lance snorted. “Piss poor attempt at making a pun. However, I am  _ floored _ by it.”

She rewarded his joke with a laugh, and Lance felt his chest constrict.

Pidge had a nice laugh. Round and warm and all things good.

“Okay, and you have a cat?”

“Her name’s Blue. She’s my soulmate.”

Another peal of laughter. “Is she now?”

“Yes. I have ‘meow’ written on my ass in big letters. That’s how I knew.”

Pidge was smiling at him, arms wrapping around herself. “Love at first sight, then? Between you and your soul _ meow _ -te?”

Lance couldn’t remember the last time he laughed that hard. Not with anyone else.

He figured, you know, there was a first for everything.

It was a few minutes of crossing roads and taking turns for Lance to find the distinguished neon sign of his favorite ice cream parlor. A small, family owned place with twenty constant flavors and ten monthly flavors. He pointed at the sign, looking at Pidge, then over his shoulder to Matt.

“This is the place! It’s pretty fantastic.”

Matt offered the boy a grin, catching up with the pair. “Neat. Here, Pidge.”

He slipped a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet, handing it to the girl. She looked up at him, already suspecting what he was planning to do.

“It’s a little too cold for me to get ice cream, I think,” Matt said, still smiling his pleasant little smile. “Besides, my boyfriend asked me to call him tonight.”

_ You conniving, scheming trash bag, _ Pidge thought bitterly. She lifted a hand to wave at him, slowly turning it into a casually flipped up middle finger, making sure Lance couldn’t see. Matt winked at the crude gesture.

“I want change back, okay? Have fun.”

And with that, Matthew Holt, the biggest asshole Pidge knew, left.

Lance cleared his throat.

“Your brother’s kind of dorky. Anyway, I recommend mint chip if you’re into the classics. I’m more of a mango and pineapple sorbet guy, though.” Lance had turned away from her, oblivious to the silent exchange the siblings had. Pidge followed, with some reluctance.

“Do you have brothers, Lance?” she asked, hoping in some way Lance felt her pain.

“A couple. I also have sisters. Big family. Is it just you and Matt?”

“Yeah. It’s nice. I can’t imagine having more than Matt.”

Lance let out a soft laugh. “Funny, I can’t imagine having any less than mine.”

Pidge smiled quietly, arms still wrapped tight around herself as she inspected the flavors on the wall. Lance was talking to the girl behind the counter, who was eager to see him.

“Oh, Mel. This is Pidge. We work together.” Lance indicated Pidge, who jumped at the sudden inclusion to the conversation. The girl named Mel waved.

“Nice to meet you. Feel free to ask for any samples.”

“Uhm, thank you.” She managed to say. Her eyes trailed back over the menu, not reading the words, trying to keep herself grounded and, to the best of her ability, invisible. She wasn’t good with people. She was better with machines, code, science.

“Hey, wanna do something fun?” Lance suddenly asked, and Pidge felt herself jump out of her skin. She stared at him, unsure what “fun” was in Lance’s book. He was grinning, pointing at the menu. “Let’s order ice cream for each other. In secret. Then we guess what we got.”

Pidge nodded, slow. She was still unsure, of course. She didn’t know Lance that well. She didn’t know if it’d be fun or surprising to order based on what she knew, and what she knew was double-scoop mango and pineapple sorbet. Would he be disappointed if she ordered him that? Would he be ecstatic to see that she was listening? Why was she so worried over his opinion?

“Wanna go first, or?”

“You can go first.” Pidge said quickly, turning to face the wall so she couldn’t see what he and Mel were talking about, what he was ordering for her. Pidge wondered if she would like it. Of course, it was ice cream, so it was automatically going to be good. But what would he pick for her?

“Okay, your turn.”

She twisted herself slowly back towards the menu, eyeing Lance, who stood by the register, faced away from the flavors and Mel. Mel was smiling at Pidge, ice cream scoop in hand. Pidge leaned in close to the glass wall separating them.

“Cup or cone, first of all?” Mel whispered, eyes glittering. Pidge looked between Lance and her, shrugging.

“W-what does he usually get?”

“I feel like a rule of this game should be not to ask what the other likes.” A wink. Pidge didn’t know anymore if she liked the girl or not.

“Cone. Of the waffle variety.”

“Excellent choice.”

Pidge glanced down at the flavors, looking around and reading the names again. They did have the classics, like mint chip, as Lance said. Unusual flavors, too, like cinnamon bun and tiramisu.

Tiramisu.

He certainly liked coffee.

She pointed at the name, tapping the glass a couple of times. Mel nodded, preparing to scoop. “One or double?”

“Double.”

Pidge was eager to pay for their ice creams, shoving the change into her pocket as she turned towards Lance, who was still facing away from her.

“Okay. Ready.”

Lance turned, looking down at the cone in her hands, a small smile on his face. He was holding a cup of ice cream, Pidge noticed, and she was pretty grateful he opted to buy her a cup.

“Tiramisu.” Lance said, suddenly, and Pidge whipped her head up to stare at his face. A grin. He was grinning.

“How the hell did you know that without even tasting it?” Pidge managed to say. He maintained his grin, and Pidge had half a mind to smack the look off his face.

“Dude, I know these flavors like the back of my hand. Okay, trade off.” He was quick to take the cone from her and place the cup, double scoop into her hands instead. She looked down at it, at the spoon sticking neatly out of the scoops. Purple swirls in white, creamy scoops. She didn’t remember seeing this one on the menu, in the cartons. Or maybe she just wasn’t looking hard enough in her panic.

“Not poison. Promise.” Lance said, nibbling already at the top scoop of ice cream. “By the way, I love you for the tiramisu. Solid choice, Pidge.”

“Uhm, you’re welcome.” Pidge managed to say, withdrawing the spoon with a bite of ice cream resting on it. She wasn’t worried, of course, that Lance and Mel somehow laced the ice cream with cyanide. She was kind of worried she wouldn’t be able to name the taste, though, and would lose the game they were playing.

And Pidge was, above all else, not prepared to lose.

She took the bite, thinking carefully. The flavor, she recognized almost instantaneously.

“Blueberry cobbler. This was not on the menu.”

Lance’s eyebrows raised. “What the hell.”

“What?”

“It’s… not on the menu. How did you guess freaking  _ blueberry cobbler, _ out of all flavors?”

Oh no. Pidge looked down at the ice cream, then back up at Lance. She had been so certain, so confident in her answer.

“Is it not blueberry cobbler?”

His expression was sheepish. He glanced away, clearing his throat.

“N-no. It’s definitely blueberry cobbler.”

Pidge didn’t even try to hide her grin. “So you were… trying to cheat?”

“Uhm, just because I know they have the flavor and knew it wasn’t on the menu doesn’t mean I was trying to cheat.”

“Nah, sounds like cheating.”

“Really, cause how’d you even know it was blueberry cobbler anyway?”

“This is literally one of my favorites. How could I not?”

“It is?”

The question got her. She looked down at the cup, focusing intensely on the swirls of blueberry carving tracks into the vanilla ice cream. She looked up again, surprised to find Lance watching her with complete focus and intensity.

“Uh, yeah. It is.”

A nod of approval, or some sort. “Good to know that information. How do you feel about actual blueberry cobblers?”

“More of an ice cream fan.”

Lance snorted, taking another lick of tiramisu before waltzing to the door. “Figured. Bye, Mel!”

Pidge waved a quick goodbye to the ice cream girl, following Lance quickly out.

“I can’t believe you’re on first name basis with the ice cream girl.”

“Of course I am. Ice cream is my other soulmate.”

“How does your cat feel about that?”

Lance grinned. “She’s aware of all the love I have to offer.”

They didn’t speak again for the rest of their walk, quietly biting into ice cream. The air was crisp, as was characteristic of fall. Pidge wasn’t all that used to the hustle and bustle of the city, so it was surprising to see so many people out walking at night. There was the occasional honk of  car horn whenever traffic stalled on the roads, the clicking of shoes as droves of people walked around them or with them. There was a hint of coffee in the air when they rounded the corner at the cafe. Downhill towards their apartment complex.

It being  _ their  _ apartment complex was a strange concept to Pidge. It had been just hers, before. She was, to her knowledge, the only person who lived there. But Lance did too. Lance lived there, and so did she, and for some reason the thought brought comfort to her mind more than it brought discomfort. She liked knowing he was only a floor above her, a close connection.

That didn’t mean, though, that she thought of him as her soulmate. Of course it didn’t.

They paused inside the lobby, Lance reluctant to hit the button to wait for the elevator.

“I had fun,” he said, suddenly. “Haven’t had a chance to go out and get a treat in a while.”

Pidge nodded. “Yeah. I had fun, too. But really, if you tell the guys that I had fun, alone, with you, of all people…”

“You’ll string me up by my toes and leave me to be eaten by vultures?” Lance finished, and Pidge wondered if he ever got tired of giving her that shit-eating grin.

“Maybe.” She pressed the up button. “Don’t get used to this.”

“Ah, your words wound my soul, Pidge. Not taking the elevator?”

“Nah. I like the walk. Goodnight, Lance.”

Lance waved her off as she walked towards the stairwell entrance, smiling wide. “Goodnight, Pidge!”

The elevator doors slid open, and Lance didn’t hesitate to step inside.

He had half a mind to press three, to see if he could catch Pidge by surprise.

Another force made him press four. A force that seemed to remind him that Pidge was just a coworker and he didn’t think she was that amazing and that she definitely couldn’t be his soulmate.

But he countered the force, reminding it that she bought him tiramisu ice cream. She didn’t even know he liked it. But she remembered the double scoop. That was something, right?

Lance leaned heavy against the wall of the elevator, beginning to finish the waffle cone in his hands.

It wasn’t until he reached his apartment door that Lance realized he forgot to buy the wet cat food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my favorite ice cream flavor's definitely a toss up between green tea and mango sorbet. i'm more of a froyo kinda gal tho. what kinda ice cream do you guys like haha????  
> next time: food runs, robots, and pizza  
> (thank u guys for reading i love u)


	4. Lunch Run

“Okay. Everyone got a stick?”

Shiro looked around expectantly at the rest of the team, who all held a stick they drew from the “Lunch Run” box. It was a strange way of deciding who had to go and buy the office lunch each day, but it was an easy to follow system. Blank sticks stayed back. Red-tipped sticks got a budget and forced everyone to eat what they buy. No one had complaints.

It was Pidge’s luck, of course, that she drew a red stick today. She’s never had to gone out and get lunch in the last couple of weeks, so it seemed Fate was finally ready to give her a chance to feed the team.

It was also her luck, it seems, that she got to go with Keith.

Keith was, to Pidge, kind of a mystery. He was quiet and analytical, much like herself, so Pidge was only a little grateful to know her company to buy lunch was introverted. But he wasn’t cold or mean, either. If anything, Pidge would say he was a doofus. With a cool leather jacket. And a motorcycle.

“Be back in thirty minutes, guys.” Shiro addressed to the pair as they stepped into the elevator with more-than-enough money and empty stomachs. Pidge let out a loud, “okay!” in response, while Keith, to no one’s shock, just gave a stoic nod.

If Pidge was honest, she probably would’ve preferred to be on lunch run duty with Lance.

Which was also a terrible thing to consider, that she would rather spend time with Lance.

But Lance was fun, always had something to say, whether it was a bad joke or just a fun anecdote he had. Pidge found out, reluctantly, that she had fun talking to Lance. He was an idiot, absolutely, but he was never dull.

Keith, however, was kind of dull.

It was a quiet, long ride in the elevator, from a literal floor up. They passed Coran, who tried to strike up mild conversation as they headed out the door.

“Ah! Pidge, first lunch run?”

“You noticed, huh?” Pidge had replied, grinning. Coran beamed.

“Of course I did. What’s today’s meal?”

Pidge and Keith froze in their tracks, and Pidge managed to exchange a sheepish glance with the older boy. His cheeks were dusted red, and he looked away from Coran, sheepish.

“We’re winging it,” Keith said after a moment, and Pidge wondered if it’d be appropriate to clock him in the shoulder for not having an answer ready. If Coran noticed, he sure didn’t seem like it, letting out a hearty laugh.

“Alright! I love surprises. Be off then, you two.”

Keith nodded at the older man, then at Pidge, forcing her to follow him out of the building and towards his motorcycle.

She wheezed a little at the sight of it. It wasn’t anything too fancy, she figured. A classic bike in black and red shades, very fitting for Keith. Pidge’s problem, however, was that she didn’t know a damn thing about motorcycles.

He had tossed a helmet to her, which she fumbled with for a second. A quirk of his brow.

“Ever ride before?” Keith asked, and Pidge shook her head quickly. Keith’s lips cracked into a small smile. “It’s cool. I’ll try to drive easy. Just hang tight, cool?”

“C-cool.” Pidge managed to choke out. “So what do you usually get? For lunch, I mean.”

She struggled a bit with the helmet, grateful to see Keith leaning casually against his bike, patient. He scratched at his chin, shrugging.

“Dunno. I don’t usually pick when my name’s drawn, I just do the driving.”

“Oh.”

“Any ideas?”

“I mean, I totally wouldn’t hate hot wings.”

“Hot wings it is.”

He offered her a smile, swinging a leg over the bike and patting the seat behind him. “We don’t have all day.”

“Right.”

Pidge quickly realized she didn’t like riding in a motorcycle. Nor did she like pressing her cheek into Keith’s jacket, because leather was kind of uncomfortable on her face. She appreciated Keith for not taking ridiculous turns or speeding up, and wondered to herself if this was how he usually drived or if he was doing it because she was a rookie at backseat motorcycle driving.

She wondered if Lance really wanted to be able to drive a motorcycle, remembering the first day they met and the conversation between him and Keith.

She cursed herself for thinking about Lance.

It was only minutes later that the bike came to a slow halt in front of a Buffalo Wild Wings. Pidge was quick to detach herself from Keith, clambering off of the bike, knees buckling. Keith was fast with his reflexes too, grabbing her arms and steadying her before she could collapse onto the pavement.

“You good?” He asked, and Pidge gave a quick nod. “Sorry, did I drive too fast?”

“Huh? N-no. You drive good.” Stupid.

“Really? Cause you look like you’re about to throw up.”

She snorted, running a hand through brown locks to keep down the loose helmet hairs. “Thanks for your concern.”

“Don’t mention it. What are we ordering?”

When the order was placed, the pair took a seat at a nearby booth, cups of soda in hand. Pidge chewed a little at her straw, sipping Sprite, watching as Keith typed out a quick text on his phone.

“Who’re you texting?” Pidge suddenly asked, and sometimes she wished she wasn’t so nosy. Keith looked up, surprised, but didn’t seem to mind.

“Just Shiro. Letting him know the status of the lunch run.”

“Cool.”

The silence became palpable once again, and Pidge couldn’t decide if it was a comfortable silence or not. She didn’t really know what to say to Keith. She barely knew the guy.

(Which, of course, was the root of their problems, the whole “not knowing each other” thing.)

“Have you met your soulmate?”

The question seemed to catch both of them by surprise, especially Pidge, who didn’t expect that to be the first thing she asked Keith about his personal life. But he gave her a smile, and Pidge was grateful he seemed to be patient and fine with humoring her curiosity.

“Don’t have one, actually.”

“Oh! I’ve never actually met someone that didn’t have a soulmate before.”

It wasn’t a far off truth. Pidge knew of people who just weren’t born with soulmarks. She didn’t know much about them, though, only they just seemed as content with life as someone who did have a soulmark and found their soulmate.

Some people just didn’t have them. And some of these people found love anyway, and some don’t experience love, either. The concept of soulmarks and soulmates was always strange to Pidge. People fell in love and were never soulmates to begin with. People didn’t find their soulmates at all. And people sometimes just didn’t have a soulmate to begin with.

“Must be nice,” Pidge suddenly said, returning her attention to her Sprite. Keith laughed, soft and airy.

“I guess. I mean, I don’t think about it too often. It’s not an issue for me.”

“I wish I didn’t think about it. Not gonna lie, having a soulmate is complete _balls.”_

“Why? Is your soulmate complete balls?”

She looked up at Keith, who was watching her, chin in hand, placid expression. She nodded, slowly, deliberately.

“You ever hear people talk about their soulmates? And how great they must be?”

“Every second I’m sitting next to Lance.”

She laughed, biting down a bit harder on her straw. “Yeah. Well, I don’t know. Sometimes… it feels like I wanna gush and fall in love with them, obviously. But other times…”

“You don’t know if it’s going to work?”

She blinked, surprised. Another slow, deliberate nod.

“Yeah. Exactly. I don’t know if it’s going to work. I used to know a guy whose parents were soulmates, but they couldn’t make it work and divorced. Which is crazy, because I feel like we grew up hearing all this shit about soulmates being a forever kind of thing.”

“Nothing’s really forever,” Keith said, twirling the straw in his drink, slow. “I mean, I get you. We like pretending love’s a forever thing because we have soulmates. But everything romanticizes it a bit too much.”

“Like soulmates can’t have problems because they’re soulmates, right? Like everything’s all hunky dory once you find your soulmate, because it’s _supposed_ to be love at first words, right?”

Keith smiled, carefully regarding Pidge, amusement in his eye. “So, am I taking it you’ve met your completely balls soulmate and don’t know how to feel about it?”

Her mouth dropped open, words catching in her throat. Keith was a smart dude. She wouldn’t be surprised if he caught on by now, what with how intense she was being. She cleared her throat, averting her gaze quickly.

“Yes. Sorry for venting at you.”

“Hey, it’s cool. We all need to get pissy sometimes, right? Especially when your soulmate’s total balls.”

“Right. Yeah. Complete balls.”

A moment passed, and Pidge began to scan her brain for another topic to bring up, a topic far away from the topic of soulmates when she heard his knuckles rap against the table. Pidge glanced up, surprised to find Keith leaning a bit across the table to reach her.

“If it’s any consolation,” Keith began, his voice low as if the two were sharing a deep, personal secret. “He’s a really good guy under all the dorky bravado. Don’t be afraid to give him a chance.”

Pidge had half a mind to scream, yet all she could do was gawk at him. A weak lift of her hand to point in his direction.

“You… it’s him? For real?”

Keith raised a brow. “Yes? Did you… were you having doubts?”

“Yeah. I--” she was breathless, staring hard at Keith. “I had a hypothesis it was a fluke.”

 _“Oh._ Well, surprise.”

“H-how do you know? I-I mean…”

“Christmas party at Hunk’s. Idiot spilled egg-nog all over himself and I had to help him wash it. Great choice of words, by the way. Not that what he said was anymore romantic.”

She leaned back hard in her seat, staring at Keith, mouth still slightly ajar.

It wasn’t a fluke.

Lance was really, actually her soulmate.

She had no idea how to feel. Like the universe came and solved a problem just to give Pidge a hundred more to work through. Like it was testing her, seeing if she really didn’t give a shit about her soulmate or if she wanted to have him. Like it wanted her to feel a hundred things at once and be unable to separate the good feelings from the bad ones.

A waitress came over and set between the pair a bag with their orders. Keith thanked her, sliding her a few dollars for tip. He stood up, carrying the bag effortlessly.

“Ready to head back?”

Not really.

“Yeah. Where the hell are you going to keep that bag?”

 

-

“You guys are the best. Actually, are these boneless? I’ll let you know if you’re still the best after I hear the answer.”

Pidge gave Hunk a quick nod, whose eyes seemed to light up at the confirmation.

“Yes, bless you, my beautiful bird. You’re truly the best.”

She was relieved to have Hunk’s lunch approval, stepping backwards from the kitchen to head quickly back to work. She’d rather be working through the lunch break, rather eager to hop back into fixing up the AI design. If she was working, no one would try to talk to her. Especially Lance.

She crashed into something in her backwards speed walk towards her table, surprised to find hands catching her sides as she fell into them.

“Woah there, Sonic. Maybe look where you’re running first.”

Of course. _Of course._

She glanced up at Lance, furrowing her brows at his face. He was grinning at her, because Lance never did stop looking at her with that shit eating grin. He had a nice jaw, Pidge realized, and a smattering of freckles along the bridge of his nose that she never noticed before. His skin looked soft, like it had a soft glow, like he exfoliated regularly-- which wouldn’t surprise her at all. His eyes were sparkling, and she realized they were pretty, like deep, unknown parts of the sea. A deep, dark blue. The mark under her breast began to tingle again.

A blush crept into her cheeks, and she hoped he wouldn’t notice.

Quickly, Pidge elbowed him in the side. He released his grip from her sides, letting out a pained laugh at the gesture.

“Dude, a simple ‘release’ works even better than jabbing me.”

“Sorry. Kind of in a hurry.” Pidge quipped, walking a wide circle around him. “Work to do.”

He raised a brow at her, still smiling, yet more of fascination than of an attempt to annoy her. “Seriously, don’t you ever take breaks? Have lunch.”

“I did eat. Right, Keith?”

Keith looked up from picking through the hot wings, giving her a quizzing gaze. She pleaded quietly with her eyes.

_“Please lie for me. Sorry for throwing you under the bus. I owe you my life.”_

Keith nodded his head, slow. “Yeah, ate on our way back.”

_"Thank you."_

Lance let out a “huh,” looking between the two of them before focusing one-hundred percent on Pidge. “Really though, you should take breaks. Not super healthy to be a workaholic.”

“I am nothing of the sort. Just particularly dedicated to what I’m doing right now.”

“You _literally_ just defined workaholic.”

“Maybe you should look into being one too, then.”

Lance snorted, throwing his hands up into the air. “Maybe. Kind of like my style of work ethic, though.”

“Figured you did, doofus. Anyways, I’ll be over there. Working. Bye.”

Pidge turned on her heel quickly, speeding towards the faraway work bench from the kitchen, sliding quickly into her seat. She placed a hand over where her heart was.

It wasn’t a fluke.

She didn’t ask Keith where the mark was, Pidge realized. Maybe that was for the best. Maybe it was better she didn’t know where she’d find it, because then she’d start staring in that direction and Pidge really didn’t want to do that. Not when it was like Lance didn’t know, either.

 _Did_ he know?

She looked down hard at the blueprints in front of her. Keith didn’t say that he knew. But why wouldn’t he? It was his soulmark! Lance wasn’t quiet about his soulmark or the idea of finding his soulmate at all. Was he thinking she was a fluke too? Or…

Her chest felt a little tight.

Or did he not want _her_ to be his soulmate?

She clenched her fists, focusing harder on the blueprints. That was a dumb thing to think. A dumb, cruel thing to think. It wouldn’t be fair to him, if she believed that. Of course, she wasn’t being fair to him in the first place, what with not bringing it up at all.

She let out a groan, resting her head against the cool surface of the table, banging a fist.

“Wow. Twenty minutes and this is what I come up to.”

Pidge looked up at Lance, who looked down at her, a soft smile on his face. She let out another frustrated groan.

“Not in the mood.”

“Yeah. You sound hangry.”

“Hangry.” She repeated the word, squinting her eyes at him.

“Hungry, angry.”

“I know what it means, Lance.”

“Of course you do, you’re a tiny genius. Anyways.”

There was the sound of things hitting the desk gently, a sliding of an object that bumped against her arm. Pidge lifted her head completely off the table, eyes widening at what Lance brought. A plate of wings. A can of soda. She began to chew on her lip, glancing up at him.

“Uhm?” Was all she said. Lance snorted.

“I could tell you were lying when you said you ate. Seriously, you need brain food. Nobody’s gonna yell at you for eating and working at the same time.”

She blinked, surprised at the gesture. “Th-that’s not why I wanted to skip lunch.”

It was his turn to be surprised, cocking his head. “Oh?”

“It’s nothing. Really.” A piss poor attempt to avoid confrontation; not that it wasn’t working. “But, uhm, thank you.”

His expression softened, and to Pidge’s continued surprise, he reached out a hand to grab her arm. A gentle squeeze. “No problem, really. By the way, this thing’s looking good. I wanna be the first person to see it when you turn it on.”

She nodded, stiff, ignoring the tingle of her skin where he was touching her. “Promise.”

He gave her another smile, less shit eating, more genuinely kind, and with that, Lance McClain had wandered back to the kitchen to mingle with Hunk and eat hot wings, the moment between them seemingly all but forgotten.

Pidge exhaled the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She glanced over at the prepared plate Lance made for her, feeling the rhythm of butterfly wings in her stomach.

She was becoming more and more aware of it, the realization that it wasn't a fluke.

Like that made it any easier.


	5. The Laws of Motion

“Still working?”

Pidge looked up from the robot in her hands, blinking slow to register who was speaking to her. Lance. He was standing casually near her table, eyebrows lifted, a smile on his face, hands shoved into the pockets of his utility jacket. She gave a curt nod, eyes drifting back down to the machine. She was so close. She just needed a little more time.

“I mean, it’s five. You worked overtime yesterday. Day before that, too.”

“What are you trying to say?” Pidge asked, not looking up again. She was getting used to this multitasking, talking to Lance and working on this dumb bot at the same time. She was grateful the bot couldn’t talk.

_ Yet,  _ at least.

“I’m trying to say it’s already getting dark this early.”

That made her glance up, eyes flickering to stare out the large, light filtering windows. He was right. The streetlamps were on, as were the fluorescent signs of businesses, the city nightlife slowly waking from its slumber. Pidge had heard a lot about these big cities, where everything was open round the clock, where the daytime was full of life but the night thrived, too. It was different, from her sleepy small Oregon town. In a good way.

She had to finish her work.

Quickly, Pidge stole her glance away from the streets below, hands moving a tad faster to finish the bot. She let out a soft sigh.

“I’ll just move faster, then.”

“Ah. Because that’s the best solution to this. Dude, come on. Go home.”

“Not when I’m this close to finishing it. I’ll head home soon, don’t worry about it.”

Lance was incredulous, pulling up another chair to her worktable, arms crossing over his chest. He sat there, eyes staring down at the way her hands moved, clutching the tetrahedron in one hand, thumbing over its surface. She never painted her nails, but they were always trimmed short, always clean. He liked her hands.

He expelled the thought, quickly. Pidge glanced up momentarily to watch him, brows furrowing.

“What are you still doing here?”

“Uh,” Lance was surprised by the question. “Waiting for you?”

“Okay. Why?”

If he was honest, Lance had no idea. He was drawing up blanks under the hard scrutiny of Pidge Holt, whose calloused, clean hands had stopped their work while she watched him, lower lip jutting out.

“I want to walk you back.”

She almost slammed the bot into the table, if she wasn’t so consciously aware of the time and effort she had already put into the thing. “You don’t have to do that.”

A snort. It was like he loved to make things weirder for her. “Pidge, it’s not like I’m actively going out of my way to walk you home. We live in the  _ same ugly building.” _

“You’ve never offered before.” She looked back down again at the prints, switching her focus back to work.

“Well, that’s because…” Lance trailed off, eyes trying to focus on anywhere that wasn’t Pidge’s face or hands. “I never thought about it before.”

“Exactly. You don’t need to walk me home.”

“I know I don’t  _ need _ to. I  _ want _ to.”

She looked up fast, perhaps a little too fast to catch the bewilderment on his face. He seemed just as surprised as she was by the words, as if Lance was unaware of his ability to make her heart skip beats when he wasn’t forcing it. Her jaw had gone slack. Her eyes were wide, staring at his face. Was he blushing? Or was she just imagining it?

Lance cleared his throat, hard.

“You know, we’re not going to get out of here until like eight if you keep stopping your work to ogle at my face.”

“Shut up,” the reply came out quick, and she looked back down again. “It’s almost done. I hate whoever wrote these plans though. If it wasn’t for the hard to read handwriting, I would’ve been done last week.”

“Ah, sounds like an excuse. Need any help?”

“If you insist,” Pidge looked up at him, grinning. “Another cup of coffee would be excellent.”

“Har har. Fine, but don’t be surprised if it’s gross, cold coffee from this afternoon.”

Pidge smiled to herself, looking back down at the bot, configuring the wires again. 

She took a second to look up in the direction of the kitchen, where Lance was making a fresh pot of coffee.

 

“Done,” Pidge let out a breath, hands placing the tetrahedron on the table, eyes wide. “Holy shit, it’s done.”

“Wow. And it’s only seven-thirty.”

“Lance, focus. I. Finished. The. Bot.” Each word came out slow and deliberate as she focused her gaze on him, eyes twinkling. He glanced out at her over the brim of his mug, furrowing his brow.

“Okay?”

“Do you really not remember my promise?”

“Promise--? Oh.  _ Oh.” _ The confusion on Lance’s face was replaced with clarity, and soon his eyes glittered with the same excitement Pidge’s did. “Shit yes. Robot time. Light it the fuck up, Pidge. Right now.”

She lifted the small thing in her hands, grinning down at it. “Wait, name time.”

“Dude, we do not have time to name the robot. Not when it could be doing cool robot stuff right now. Like firing lasers. Or enslaving us.”

“Do you, like, ever think before you speak, Lance?”

“Never.”

She snorted, turning her work over in her hands. “I’m calling it Rover. Any objections?”

“Uh, no. Not when you could just turn it on already.”

Pidge placed Rover down on the table, stepping back with the remote control she had to fashion to control it; the thing that wasn’t in the blueprints. She looked over at Lance, who was watching her every move, expectantly flicking his eyes between her and Rover.

“Ready?”

“I was born ready.”

She pressed a button, and Rover flickered to life. It glowed pink for a moment, before flickering a steady cyan color, the dot that seemed to reflect an eye blinked. Rover lifted off the table, slow and shaky. It let out a small beep.

And Pidge couldn’t stop grinning.

“It works. It actually works.” Pidge said, breathless. “This-- this is incredible.”

“Incredible’s an understatement. This bot is--”

“Rover.”

“Right. Rover’s god tier.”

She suppressed a snort. “God tier, huh?”

“What?”

“Sorry. Never heard that expression before.”

A moment passed, and the two watched silently as Pidge pressed buttons to see what the bot would do, taking a few notes before eventually powering it down.

“Aw, come on you buzzkill! Can’t we play with Rover for just a few more minutes?” Lance pleaded, leaning across the table to run his fingers over the now-warm metal of the pyramid. Pidge shook her head, grabbing his wrist and pulling it away from the bot.

“We have to do tests, make sure it runs smoothly. And it’s not something you  _ play _ with, Lance. It’s an experiment. For the government, in case you forgot that fact.”

“Didn’t forget, just ignoring it.” Lance grinned at Pidge, who rolled her eyes at him.

“Besides, it’s already eight. I’d love to go home and sleep.”

“You go to bed at eight?”

She faltered for a second at the question, glaring at the all too familiar grin on Lance’s face. She didn’t know how she felt about him knowing her well enough to know that her sleep schedule was off its rockers. Annoyed, surely. A bit pleased? She’d never admit to it.

“I’m leaving with or without you.” She decided, which she would’ve felt bad about saying if it didn’t cause Lance to sputter and scramble.

Pidge packed her things quickly, giving Rover a pat on the head before speeding past Lance, who yelped in surprise. A quick press of the down button on the elevator whilst Lance had scurried to his desk, trying 2 gather his things.

“Dude, come on!”

She grinned at him as she stepped inside, holding down the button that would close the doors. Lance let out a groan as they began to shut on him.

_ “Pidge!” _

“Sorry, not my fault!”

“Oh, come the fu--”

The doors closed heavily, and Pidge leaned back against the wall as she made her descent into the lobby. She was absolutely pleased with herself, sure. She’s seen Lance lose his cool multiple times, but there was something satisfying about that little victory. The elevator stopped it's short journey to the first floor, and she stepped into the empty, quiet, dark lobby, watching the elevator shut and rise again to pick Lance up.

She had half a mind to leave, really. Pidge didn’t see a point to staying. But he had said something earlier that resonated deep in her brain, and--dare she think so-- her heart.

_ “I know I don’t  _ need _ to. I  _ want _ to.” _

She’s never been offered to be walked back anywhere before. Not even after a long night lecture would her classmates offer a walk back through the dark of campus to the bus stop. Pidge wasn’t a stranger to solitude, of course. She had her machines, much better company than people were. Her brother was there to offer companionship, but outside of her family? She couldn’t think of a single instance of her acquaintances offering to walk with her anywhere. Especially when it was dark.

The thought was nice, to even be offered a walk. Pidge didn’t like admitting to weaknesses either, didn’t like to ask for help when she needed it. Independence came with a price, and that price included a fear of the dark and lonesomeness. She was sure, for a second, that Lance offering to walk her back… It had to be of convenience, right? He had said it himself, they lived in the same building. She had no reason to overthink it.

But what if it really--

The elevator dinged again before she could think on it more, and Lance appeared in the threshold. His eyes widened, eyebrows quirking in surprise.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Pidge asked immediately, not even hiding the annoyance in her voice.

“Uh. Sorry. I just thought you already left.”

“You’re the one who wanted to walk home together.”

“Yeah, but..” Lance trailed off, still keeping his gaze on Pidge. She didn’t know if she liked being under the boy’s scrutiny all the time. It was like he was always making judgements about her, and Pidge wasn’t sure if they were good or bad judgements. “Nevermind. We’re burning daylight.”

“It’s eight at night, Lance.”

“It’s an expression, Pidge.”

“An expression that only works when the sun’s out.”

He snorted at the line, holding the door open for Pidge to duck out. It was chilly, which wasn’t unusual for October nights. Pidge remembered back in her hometown in Oregon, the leaves turning orange and falling on the ground. The big city had trees too, of course, whose leaves shed their green hues in exchange for reds and browns and gold.

“Wanna take a shortcut?”

Pidge glanced at Lance, who was finishing locking up the building, shoving his keys into the black tote he carried. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“A shortcut.”

“Yeah. I know a faster way home. If you’re not in a hurry, that is.”

“I’m not even going to tell you how many contradictions you just said.”

Lance let out a laugh, turning to face the opposite direction of their apartment complex. “You coming?”

Pidge wasn’t a fan of going against the current. She found it easier to be ahead of the current, and stay on track, and maintain order in her life. Graduate college. Get a good job. Pretend the Shitter wasn’t going to be a massive, well, shitter on everything she’s ever done to maintain normalcy.

This? This wasn’t normal. An obstruction in her personal grand design of life. Lance McClain was her soulmate, and although Pidge expected to meet him someday, she never dreamt it’d be like this. That he’d be like this.

He was beginning to walk away from her, up the street, against the current she found herself uneager to go against, to drown in. Her legs stayed glued to the spot on the sidewalk, next to a darkened building where she worked her dream job, where she met her soulmate.

“I’m leaving,” he sing-songed, and that irked her enough.

She sped up to follow him.

“We live in the other direction, you know.” Pidge said as she finally found herself keeping pace with the boy, who never took his gaze away from the path in front of him. He was grinning.

“I know. Like I said, shortcut.”

“A shortcut to where, exactly? Because it definitely isn’t my apartment.”

He snorted. “Do you have to question everything? I mean, can’t you just… you know, roll with it?”

“Unlike you, I’m a scientist, and scientists have to question everything.”

“Who said I wasn’t a scientist?” He looked down at her this time, winking. The very gesture made Pidge want to turn a full 180 degrees and go home. Instead, she broke eye contact, staring ahead.

“Aw, no retaliation?”

“I apologize for making the assumption you weren’t.”

“Appreciate it.”

“Where are we going, exactly?”

“A place.”

That earned him an elbow to the ribs. A soft giggle.

“Okay, my favorite place. Left here. Try to keep up, shorty.”

“Your favorite place? Like, a dumpster?”

“Your words wound me, Pidge.”

Pidge followed Lance down the street, a turn here, a backtrack at a chocolatier’s to pick up samples. A voice in the back of her head nagged earnestly at her, begging her to stop following him and go home, reminding her she should take a nap. Yet there was something so intriguing about the city, about the streets Lance was dragging her around. She nibbled on the dark chocolate almond cluster the boy offered to her from the samples platter, eyes flicking up to the dark blue sky above them as the pair walked.

“Woah--!”

She felt a hand grab her fingers, tugging her to the side. Pidge looked up, surprised and suspicious at Lance, who was frowning at her.

“What?”

“Were you spacing out or something?”

Pidge blinked, suddenly more aware of their surroundings. A streetlight. A park across. Cars zooming past them on the street. She looked down at the sidewalk, squinting to see the bits of paper littering it. Back up again at Lance.

“Uh, probably. Sorry. I was thinking about work,” she lied, shoving a hand into her pocket. Lance rolled his eyes.

“Your whole workaholic thing’s gonna get you killed. Wait for the walk sign next time, okay?”

She found it a little annoying, his whole thing about caring about what people did. She admired him sometimes for being observant and in tune with others feelings, but it was strangely aggravating when he lectured her about it. Like he cared, or something. Which was even more annoying, amplified by the fact he was her soulmate.

She repeated the word in her head again. Soulmate.

He still didn’t know she was his, did he? He never asked and she never thought to say so.

The walk sign flashed, and Lance began to pull her along, across the street to the park. It hadn’t even occurred to her to remember, for a moment, that they were holding hands.

“The park?” Pidge finally asked as their feet landed on the sidewalk, crossing the entrance into the recreational space. Lance nodded.

“Parks are fun. I used to go a lot as a kid.”

“You’re from the city?” Pidge asked, allowing Lance to lead her to the large jungle gym in the center of the green. Lance shook his head.

“Grew up in Tampa. I just mean my mom took us to our local park a lot.”

“You and your siblings, right?”

“Yeah. Look, the best part. Swings.”

The pair marched to the playground, only lit up by the few lamps. No one was there, not that Pidge was surprised. She quickly checked the time on her phone. Half past eight.

“Is there a reason we’re at a park right now instead of, oh, I don’t know, home?”

Lance gave her a puzzled glance, releasing her hand to walk around to the other side of the swingset, plopping down. “Thought it’d be fun.”

“Fun,” she repeated, choosing to take a seat on the swing next to Lance, shivering as her fingers touched the cool metal chains.

“Yeah. I haven’t come here in a while, so I figured, you know, why not?”

He kicked off, swinging back and forth, and Pidge watched quietly as he gained a steady momentum. She pushed off the ground, too, not looking to swing any higher or faster than Lance.

“Little hard to have a conversation when you’re swinging, don’t you think?” Pidge shouted at him, surprised again to hear him laugh.

“Who said anything about having a conversation? Now are we going to see who can swing the highest or not?”

She furrowed her brow, kicking her legs a little higher to gain more traction, the swing lifting her higher into the air. “It’d be me. I weigh less.”

“You think?”

“Physics, Lance. Newton’s laws of motion?”

A scoff. “Are you seriously trying to use science instead of actually swinging right now?”

“Well, according to Newton’s second law--”

“Screw Newton and the laws of physics for like five seconds and start swinging, Holt!”

She was taken aback by the outburst, but found herself swinging higher and higher, the feeling of weightlessness in her body spreading like the universe itself in creation. It was odd, Pidge realized as she tried to think of the right calculations to prove her point.

She couldn’t think of math at all.

They went like that, for a few minutes, swinging back and forth, up towards a starless night, the crisp October air stealing the breath from their lungs as their ears and cheeks began to glow red from the chill and flight. Pidge wasn’t counting the time when they both slowed down their swings to gentle motions, not speaking to each other but letting the swings do the talking for them.

“I come here a lot when I need to get away from responsibilities.” Lance suddenly said. Pidge blinked, turning her head to stare at him as he pushed off the ground now and again but unwilling to take flight. “Sometimes life throws a lot, you know? And it’s hard to keep up with it. Stress sucks. So I sit on a swing and fly until I stop thinking so hard about it.”

“And it works?” She whispered. Lance looked up, and she could tell his eyes were shining even in the shadows of the park.

“Yeah. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Did you stop thinking about it?”

“About what?”

He let out a laugh, focusing on swinging again. “If you have to ask, that means it worked.”

A heartbeat, skipped. Pidge adjusted herself in the plastic seat, pushing off with her toes, wrapping her jacket tighter around her.

“Is that why you took me here instead of home?”

The question seemed to catch Lance by surprise, who quirked an eyebrow in Pidge’s direction. A soft shrug. “I guess. I was just thinking you were working too hard. Nerdy robot girls need breaks, too.”

“Thank you.”

The words came out quiet and quick, but not unnoticed by Lance, whose head jerked up at them. He blinked, surprised at her as she stood up from the swing, wiping her nose with her sleeve. Was she cold? Sick?

There was a wetness in her eyes that he almost didn’t notice in the dim light of the park.

Lance figured he shouldn’t ask.

“You’re welcome.” He said, finally, also standing up, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. “Ready to go home, then?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

They began to walk quietly out of the park, leaving behind two swings that appeared unperturbed, slightly moving back and forth in response to the wind.

“Oh yeah,” Pidge began as Lance pressed the crosswalk button. He looked down at her, eyebrows raised.

“What?”

“Due to Newton’s laws of motion, I was absolutely right about swinging higher.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been a while!!!! super busy with school and other things!!! but this fic was not forgotten!!! merry end of 2016!!!  
> i hope this fic brings you more joy as we head into the new year and closer to the s2 premier <3  
> next time: i have no idea why do i keep thinking i do


	6. A Pleasure to Meet You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters tonight. i'm too kind. winks.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hunk.”

Pidge choked on her coffee.

She had never been witness to soulmates meeting for the first time, ever in her life. Of course, the romcoms Matt forced her to watch always had this sort of meet-cute situation, where one says the other’s soulmark and the audience waits with baited breath for the response.

Pidge, however, was beginning to think the poor girl only had a series of ellipses somewhere on her skin, what with the way Hunk just gawked at her.

She was a representative of some family-owned corporation called Balmera Tech. Tall, dark skin, big, bright eyes and a short haircut. Her name was Shay.

And she was probably Hunk’s soulmate, if the damned lug could just  _ say something already. _

“He’s flopping around like a fish out of water,” Lance whispered from next to her, taking a sip from his mug. “I feel like we should save him.”

“How do we plan on doing that?” Pidge whispered back.

“Distraction, obviously. Keith, how do you feel about running around the office butt naked?” Lance shot a grin at his cubicle mate, who shot back a glare.

“I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Fair enough. Pidge?”

“In your dreams, McClain.”

“Okay, party pooper. Then just, I dunno, go over there and say you have some important math to do or whatever.”

“Why me?” Pidge groaned. Lance rolled his eyes.

“Cause you’re techy. If I went over there, Allura’s going to assume I just wanna avoid working, which, unrelated, I do. However, you and Hunk already work together. It won’t be suspicious.”

Pidge let out a sigh, looking back to where Hunk was standing with Shay and Allura, who looked about ready to kill him. “If Hunk says something weird to Shay, I want it on my will that this was your idea and it was absolutely not my fault.”

“Deal. Now go.”

Pidge didn’t know how she felt about being an interference to whatever the hell was happening.

_ He’s just in shock, is all. As soon as I go over there, Hunk will collect his bearings, and say something totally not weird and ta-da, soulmates. _

“Hello,” Pidge said, distracting Shay and Allura from the blubbering mess in front of them. “I’m Pidge Holt, the other tech guy.”

“Oh! Nice to meet you as well, Pidge.” Shay gave her a smile, and Pidge felt a little envious of Hunk. She was so nice, so pleasant, and she was stuck with…

She struck the thought away. Right now, she had to focus on Hunk, her best bud, her platonic other half.

Allura cleared her throat. “Y-yes, uh. Pidge, Miss Shay is our colleague from Balmera Tech. You know, the communications…”

“Communication specialists, or something. Radio and junk, right?”

Shay gave a quick nod, another warm smile. “Correct you are, Miss Holt. Although, I think what we do is a lot more significant than junk…”

Pidge felt an embarrassed blush color her cheeks, and she cleared her throat. “R-right. I didn’t mean to be crass.”

“No need to apologize. I’m just very excited to start working with everyone here at Voltron.” Shay looked up from Pidge to glance over at Hunk, still smiling. Hunk nodded, and Pidge wondered if he was still breathing or not.

“Uhm, yeah. Actually if you guys don’t mind, I need to steal Hunk. We have robots to study, right Hunk?”

If Pidge could travel through time, she’d go back to this moment and kick her own ass. Hunk had cleared his throat, nodding hard, eyes focusing intently on Shay.

“Y-yes. My bird needs me to fix robots. Right now.”

It was Lance’s turn to choke on his coffee.

Shay’s jaw went slack.

Pidge grabbed Hunk’s hand, beginning to drag Hunk away from the two women, eyes full of horror. “Okay yeah. We’re going. Goodbye.”

Allura watched the exchange silently, eyes wide in horror. Quickly she grabbed Shay’s hand.

“Apologies for that, uh, interaction, Miss Shay. I assure you, my employees are a lot more verbose than that. Sh-shall we continue our conversation in my office?”

Shay blinked, as if noticing Allura was there for the first time. “Y-yes. Let’s do that.”

The four employees watched patiently, waiting for the moment the pair disappeared behind Allura’s door. A soft click.

Lance burst into laughter.

“Holy shit, and I thought mine were bad.”

“Not funny.” Keith said, gently laying a hand on Hunk’s shoulder. “You okay there, Hunk?”

Hunk let out a sigh, dropping his face into his hands. “I can’t believe how hard I just blew that. Like, that was bad, right? I totally choked.”

“I wouldn’t say  _ totally, _ ” Pidge began, causing the older to look at her between the spaces of his fingers.

“I’m sorry, were we not suffering through the same awkward situation just now?”

“Oh, we definitely were. I’m just trying to, yanno, reassure you. Encouraging best friend stuff, yanno.”

“Bite me.”

Lance let out a snort. “What’s even the big deal? You’re soulmates, buddy! If anything, she and Allura are probably gossiping all about you right now.”

“Or it could be a fluke. That’d be nice. Her choice of words weren’t exactly unique.”

“Okay, now you’re just being overdramatic.”

Hunk opened his mouth to retaliate, stopped only by a person clearing their throat. Four pairs of eyes turned to face Allura, who stared at the ensemble with a glare on her face, arms crossed over her chest. She was scary when she was mad, Pidge realized in her four months of working at Voltron. She was especially scary as it got colder out, and Pidge chalked that up to seasonal mood.

“Hunk?” Allura began slowly, scrutinizing the poor boy.

“Y-yeah, boss?”

“If you’re done grieving, please go into my office. Shay asked to speak with you. Alone.”

The boy turned quickly to his colleagues, who were watching in earnest. A thumbs-up from Keith, grins from Lance and Pidge. He was slow to move, sitting up straight as a board before tiptoeing away to Allura’s office. A soft exchange of words began between Hunk and Shay, at least, that’s what the group saw before the door was shut.

Allura turned her gaze to the trio, frowning.

“Those were terrible words for Shay to grow up with.”

“It’s Lance’s fault. He made me interfere.” Pidge said quickly, causing the older to bluster at the sudden accusation.

“Man, what? I didn’t think you’d make the situation worse.”

“God, who even says that? When did I become his bird?”

“You literally named yourself after a bird, Pidge.”

“Paladins, not now.” Allura pursed her lips at them, arms still crossed over her chest. Pidge never could figure out why Allura insisted on calling them ‘paladins.’ Coran said once that she was fond of the nickname, thinking of her little group of employees as something wildly spectacular. “I need a minute to think.”

“About what? How great it is that we helped Hunk meet his soulmate?” Lance quipped, a grin on his face. Allura frowned at him.

“Helped’ is a strange word to use. Though, it is wonderful they met. I’m happy that they’re going to be happy.” Allura gave them a small smile. “In any case, why are you three standing around when you could be working?”

That was the cue. It took only a few seconds for the kitchen to clear out, for Lance and Keith to race back to their respective desks, for Pidge to leisurely stroll to her workbench without a second thought. She looked up despite herself, surprised to find Allura staring at her.

“Uhm, did you need me?” Pidge asked, and Allura responded with a soft smile.

“I’d like to sit with you, if that’s alright. My office is a bit…” She paused, furrowing her brows as she came over to where Pidge sat, pulling out a chair for herself. “Crowded.”

“Mm. Three’s a crowd and all.”

“I feel a little bad. There’s not much else they could go in the building for privacy.”

Pidge shrugged, unsure how to continue the conversation. It shouldn’t have been so difficult for her to talk to Allura. She was her boss. She wasn’t unapproachable, despite that. Pidge hardly knew her, but she really, really wish she did. Allura was like, on another level of existence. She was pretty. And smart. And… well,  _ boss. _

“You’re thinking of something,” Allura suddenly stated, blue eyes twinkling with warmth as she scrutinized Pidge’s face. “You can talk to me, you know.”

“Oh, well.” This wasn’t expected. “I was just thinking.”

“About work, I suppose.” A smile. Pidge looked down at her notes. “I’m really glad you figured out the blueprints for that robot. I knew asking for you to join Voltron was a good idea.”

“Right. Thanks,” Pidge managed. It had been a few weeks since Pidge got Rover to work. Since then, Allura and Shiro sat with her and Hunk as they ran their tests and collected data about the robot. Pidge adored it, of course, and was insistent on keeping it around for as long as she could. However, the second comment Allura made…

“You wanted me to join?” Pidge asked, lifting her eyes from her notebook. Allura gave her a delighted nod.

“Y-yes. We were looking at a lot of applications, and, well, I felt like you fit the team the best. Brilliant technicians, all of them. But none of them were you.”

Pidge felt her heart swell a little at the comment. High praise from Allura? She hadn’t expected it. Pidge wondered if Allura would’ve said something sooner, given the fact she was sitting her in the first place was due to soulmate circumstances.

Soulmates. Right. Another set of burning questions Pidge had for Allura. She gazed at her for a moment, unsure how to breach the topic.

“So, uh. You’re not… against workplace romance?” Stupid, of course. Allura blinked, a blush blooming across her features.

“Strange question to ask.”

“I-I know. I just wanted to… get to know you better.”

“You’re curious about my soulmark.”

It wasn’t a question, that was a different punctuation mark. Pidge swallowed around the knot forming in her throat. She nodded, quickly. Allura’s expression didn’t waver.

“You don’t have to answer. N-not my place to ask,” Pidge said quickly, hoping Allura wasn’t about to change her mind about hiring her for Voltron. Instead, the woman smiled, still blushing.

“No no, I understand. I guess Shiro took you by surprise with… us. He says he knew you when you were a kid.”

“Ugh. He didn’t say anything embarrassing, right?”

A laugh. “Maybe I’ll ask.”

“Please don’t.”

Allura beamed at her, reaching across the table to touch her hands. Pidge stole a glance at her fingers, her perfectly manicured nails.

“I think I acted much like Hunk did,” Allura said, reminiscence in her tone. “It was only a couple of years back. Unlike the rest of you, I didn’t scout for Shiro. He was just… assigned.”

“Ah, government bullfuckery.”

“Language in the workplace, Pidge.” She smiled as she scolded her, still laying her fingers over Pidge’s knuckles. “Anyways, it was strange. I don’t suppose, at the time, I was really searching to meet them. My soulmate, I mean. I was much like you. Work oriented.”

“Work oriented,” Pidge repeated, staring a little harder at the woman. “How’d you deal with it? Meeting him?”

Allura took a long time to answer, hands still holding Pidge’s, lower lip jutting out in deep thought. Her eyes scanned the table, quiet, and Pidge wished she’d say something, or maybe just let go of her hands, because Pidge wanted to get back to work and Allura was literally holding her hostage.

“I didn’t.”

That took Pidge by surprise. She glanced away from their hands, locking eyes with Allura, whose blush gave way and left behind a serious, determined gaze.

“You didn’t?”

“No. Emotions, feelings, Pidge… Especially soulmates… you don’t just deal with it. It’s not something to just check off your to-do list and go about your business. You have to make adjustments. Meet them halfway. Work for it. Your soulmate’s a real person, too.”

“I-I never said they weren’t.”

“Mhm. But don’t you agree? We think about soulmates a lot and end up idealizing a perfect, never ending romance?”

A curt nod. Allura continued.

“I don’t believe in that. I don’t think you do, either. Love… it’s different, in practice than in thought. I hope you remember that, when you meet yours.”

Pidge felt her soulmark tingle, and she gulped, hard, thinking about Lance and all the ways he made her feel. Love, probably, was too strong a feeling to describe it. Maybe she just felt… kind to him. Him and his pretty eyes and gentle voice and caring words. Allura wasn’t wrong. She didn’t believe in the perfect, never ending romance the movies sold her and everyone else. Things weren’t like that.

Not that she was making it easier. Pidge let out a sigh. She still hadn’t told him, huh? They still hadn’t solidified  _ whatever _ they were, soulmates or just friends or what. And that was even more infuriating than just knowing they were clearly something. Like she was holding back.

“What should I do if I meet them?” Pidge asked, her tone soft. Allura beamed.

“You work for it.”

The door to Allura’s office swung open, as if the two inside were awaiting for their cue. They were still talking, Pidge noticed immediately. Hushed tones, smiles on their faces. Allura stood up from the table, releasing her hands.

“I suppose it’s time we both get back to work.”

“Yeah. But uh, I still want to know. Your soulmark.” Pidge said quickly, her hands pulling back to touch her throat. Allura considered her for a moment, a playful smile on her face.

“Do you?”

“Y-yeah. Just curious about them, the words on your skin. What’d he say?”

She leaned in close, and Pidge took the moment to breathe in the scent of her perfume. Floral, crisp. No nonsense, much like her. She was smiling.

“He didn’t say them.”


	7. Heartbeat in the Brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It never felt like this.  
> Tell me we belong here.  
> [I've been waiting to link the title of this whole thing.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=68GruRH19Lc)  
> (this was a 2 chapter update!! if you haven't read chapter six, go do that. winks.)

His parents weren’t soulmates.

At least, not in the way they were supposed to be, the way the universe dictated soulmates. His mother’s words matched to a different person. His father, no words at all. It was always a wonder to Lance how they met, how they fell in love despite the universe insisting no. 

He had met his mom’s soulmate once. A man only three years younger than her in the real estate business. Lance grew up calling him his uncle.

“He  _ is _ my soulmate. We aren’t in love, though,” his mother had said, hands covered in soap and water as she washed the plates he and his siblings ate croquettes on for lunch. Lance leaned hard against the counter, staring at her.

“But he’s your real soulmate.” He was ten years old at the time of this conversation. His mother had laughed, soft and airy. She was always so patient with him, despite the frustration in Lance’s tone.

“Your papa’s my real soulmate.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“What do you mean?”

Lance had pouted, looking at his mother with hard blue eyes. “The words, mama.”

“The words mean nothing if you can’t fall in love with them.”

He let out a frustrated groan, stamping a foot. “That doesn’t even make sense!”

It was a long time before she answered.

“Do you want to fall in love with your soulmate, mijo?” The question came out soft.

Lance felt the words between his shoulder blades tingle. The words his mother had almost fainted at, at first sight. He scratched his back, nodding.

“Then you have to understand that love… it’s harder than it seems. It’s more than just a feeling, more than just the first words you say.” His mother paused, taking a moment to scrub the dirt underneath her fingernails, turn the water off, wipe her hands with a towel. “It’s an effort. And if you truly, deeply want to be in love with your soulmate, well… Prepare to work for it, okay?”

She had ran a hand through his hair, dark eyes twinkling with warmth.

Lance was beginning to appreciate her words, twelve years later as he sat on the floor of his kitchen, watching Blue intently eat her dinner.

The words on his skin were tingling again, and Lance wished his words could’ve appeared somewhere that was easier to scratch.

_ You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. _

He imagined Pidge saying them again in her deadpan tone. Which was a terrible idea, because the words continued to tingle and he continued to try to touch the hard-to-reach space on his spine.

_ Prepare to work for it. _

Work for it, right. She was eternally frustrating, for a soulmate. That was, if she really was his soulmate and he wasn’t just imagining it.

He couldn’t even remember what the first thing he said to her was. He tended to do that, forget his first words to someone if it was clear they weren’t soulmates. Lance was pretty empathetic, and he could usually tell within minutes of conversation if they were soulmates or not. The first sign was sobriety. The second, blowing him off for whatever corny pickup line he used. The third, not saying his words to him.

The third sign wasn’t his favorite.

He didn’t know how long he was sitting there, on the cold floor of his kitchen. It was almost one in the morning, based on the analog clock display over his stove. He thought about Pidge, thought about Hunk meeting Shay. Hunk was lucky, in the way that he and Shay seemed to click together like puzzle pieces. He was a little envious of his friend, in that sense. He wanted to feel that, with somebody, anybody. With Pidge, if she’d have him.

It was the damndest thing, the way she completely took over his late night thoughts. Of course, he was always thinking about his soulmate. But it was one thing to imagine a life with a complete imaginary person than it was to imagine a life with someone tangible, with a real voice and calloused hands and a laugh that made him feel like he was drinking too much.

(He hasn’t touched alcohol since college.)

He wondered, quietly, if Pidge thought about him too. If she reminisced in the idea of  _ them _ the way he did.

Not that he was totally thinking about that.

But of course he was. He was thinking about it and it was driving him up a wall. He was thinking about it and her and the words on his back that he couldn’t see or touch. He wondered if she could see his words, if she had his words. He wondered if she could touch them.

He could ask.

He fished his cell phone from out of the pocket of his hoodie, waking up the screen to fill the dimly lit kitchen in cold, blue light. 1:15 AM.

He could text her.

His thumbs punched in the code to unlock it, opening the messaging app and selecting Pidge’s name. He quickly read over their last conversation, from that afternoon while he and Hunk were on a lunch run.

_ Me: what kind of sauce do u eat ur fries w/ _

_ Pidge: uhhh ranch? _

_ Me: ugh ur so white _

_ Pidge: lmao, doofus. get me whatever i guess i’ll eat em _

_ Me: xoxo _

_ Pidge: xoxo! _

He felt a blush rise up his throat. Why did she make him feel so… so…

He blasted out a text, hoping she wouldn’t respond.

_ “You awake?” _

Almost instantaneous.

_ “Unfortunately.” _

His spine tingled again.

_ “Which apartment is yours?” _

_ “I am not inviting you into my apartment at this hour.” _

_ “It’s important.” _

_ “Can it wait until tomorrow?” _

No.

_ “IDK.” _

It was a hot minute before Pidge finally responded.

_ “304. You get ten minutes, starting now.” _

He picked himself up, not even bothering to put shoes on. It was almost as if time was slowing down, holding it's breath as he crossed the threshold of his door, walked down the hall, pushing the down button for the elevator. If he ran out of time, that was probably a sign. If he didn’t, well…

Door, open. Floor three, pushed.

_ If you truly, deeply want to be in love with your soulmate… _

301, 302, 303.

He rapped his knuckles against the door.

“Six minutes,” Pidge said upon answering, staring up at Lance. He felt his lungs cease to function.

“Can I come in?”

“Depends. I’m a little sad I don’t know where you live, yet…”

“412.”

She stepped aside, a grin forming on her lips, satisfaction spreading across her features. He shrugged it off, quickly bumbling through the door, not taking a moment to drink in the surroundings because at that second, Lance just kind of wanted to look at her.

“So, five minutes. What’s up?”

She was watching him, hovering a bit in her doorway, hand on the doorknob. Lance let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“Okay. Promise not to laugh?”

“Hard to do that, but I’ll try.”

“What would you do if you met your soulmate?”

She faltered for a second, grip on the doorknob tightening. Why would he show up here, at this hour, to ask her that?

“I don’t know.” Pidge was being honest. She met him months ago, and she still didn’t know what she was trying to do. What she wanted to do. “I never had the time to figure that out.”

A moment passed, a long enough silence for Pidge to check the time on her wristwatch.

“Four minutes.” Her voice came out small, hoarse. She hated that, feeling like she couldn’t say what she was thinking. Of course she thought about it, what she’d do when she met her soulmate. So far, nothing was going as planned. And here he was, looking at her, his hands together, his eyes full of melancholy, curiosity, earnest.

“Since I was a kid, I always dreamt about it. Meeting my soulmate, I mean.” Lance said suddenly, eyes unwavering from her. “Everyone makes fun of me, sure, but I mean. It’s kind of important to me.”

“Why?”

A laugh. “I had a hard time making friends growing up. Yanno, awkward tall kid who can’t listen to the rules and always acted so much better than others?”

“Ah, you were kind of insufferable. Relatable.” Pidge released the doorknob, leaning hard against the wall, staring at Lance. “Where’s this going?”

“My point is that it was lonely. I kind of had this idea in my head that, yanno, I’ll meet my soulmate and finally have one person on my side. Because  _ love. _ ”

“Because love,” Pidge repeated, nodding her head. “Okay, I get that. How’s that working out for you?”

“It isn’t.”

“Go figure.”

“I was… thinking about it all wrong. Like, I’m kind of an idiot for just thinking I’ll meet them and everything would be fine.”

She checked her watch. “Two minutes.”

“Stop being annoying when I’m trying to have a heart to heart.”

Her hand dropped. “Sorry. I’m not good at this whole feelings thing. Should I be saying something encouraging, like, uh…”

She paused for a second, looking anywhere except Lance, eyes focusing on the cityscape outside her window. She swallowed, hands fidgeting, Allura’s words from that morning still bumbling around in her head.

_ Work for it. _

“You’re not an idiot, Lance. I mean, you are. But I’m sure a lot of people think like you. I know I kind of do. I mean, the whole culture we have around the concept of soulmates is super unfortunate, but--”

“Wow, you’re putting me to sleep with your encouragement.”

She opened her mouth to retaliate, but found herself unable to find the words, what with Lance standing across from her, a shit-eating grin forming on his face.

All that came out was a laugh.

And to her pleasure, Lance was laughing too.

“Okay,” the words came out slow in between fits of giggles. “Okay. Back to the heart to heart.”

“Not gonna timecheck me?” He was still smiling, wide and full of life.

“You came all the way down here without shoes to say what you want to. Also, I’m worried if I don’t let you finish you’re just gonna bug me the whole night.”

Lance’s smile faded as he remembered why he came down in the first place. He was anxious, nervous. There came a layer of insecurity whenever it came down to seeing soulmarks. It wasn’t just because, sometimes, they were in strange places. It was bearing your soul out to the people who saw it, letting them read the words of the person you were meant to be with. And for Lance especially, it was worse, because he couldn’t see the words himself.

“Can you read something for me?” The question was innocent enough, his words coming out mild. Pidge cocked her head to the side, slowly nodding. “Can you also, uh, not… make it weird?”

“You’ve made it weird already.”

“I know. But this is… it’s really important to me, Pidge.”

She hesitated, surprised to see fear flicker across his eyes. “O-okay.”

“Okay. Can I take my shirt off?”

Realization began to dawn on Pidge’s face, her breath hitching. Her hands dug deep into the pockets of her hoodie, eyes locking with Lance’s.

Her heart began to beat faster.

She nodded. “Yes. Do I need to turn around?”

“N-no. More like, I need to.”

“Oh. I don’t want to be impolite, so I’ll just.. shut my eyes. Just say when.”

And with that, she clenched her eyes shut despite the darkness of her apartment. A part of her was excited, of course, to read his soulmark. Another part, however, was terrified of what she might read.

What if Keith and Allura were wrong? What if she was wrong?

Her own soulmark began to tingle, and her hands formed fists, nails digging crescent moons into her palms. She let out the breath she must’ve been holding in as she forced her ears to listen harder for the sound of fabric moving.

“Okay. I’m ready. Are… are you okay with this? Really?”

“You’re already shirtless in my living room.”

Lance was grateful she could still make jokes. 

His hands were shaking.

“You can open them.”

Pidge did.

It was hard to see in the dark, what with the only light source coming from outside the window of her apartment. Lance was silhouetted in it, bathing in the artificial yellow from the lamppost in front of the building. She took a step closer to him, hands out just in case she fell. She yanked them back, though, as soon as she touched his skin, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

“What?”

“Sorry. This is… hard to see.”

“Should I turn?”

“Can you?”

He spun a little on his heels, just so the light would change enough for her to see the tattooed words on his back. She wasn’t sure how close she should get to look at them, but she leaned in anyway.

Her breath was warm on his back. Lance wasn’t sure how to tell her how strange it was, but it made his skin tingle more than those words ever did.

“I’ve never seen them.” Lance whispered. “Only my family. Oh, and Keith, but he doesn’t count.”

“Really?” She was whispering too, as if sharing a secret, eyes squinting to read.

“Yeah. Can’t reach and touch them, either. It makes me feel… far away from them. Like they’re always going to be right there, but not…  _ here.” _

Pidge’s heart began to race, staring at the words on his back. She recognized the handwriting, of course. She saw it every day she held a pen in her hand.

“Can I touch you?”

A nod, then a quiet “yes,” escaped his lips.

Her fingers were cold, not that Lance was surprised.

His back was warm, not that Pidge was surprised, either.

She ran her thumb over the sentence a few times, brow furrowing. It was strange, reading her first words to him across his back in her handwriting. She felt a little bad, of course, because her penmanship was never good and his mother probably had to really squint to realize the word “fucking” was on her son’s back.

“What would you do if you met them?” Pidge asked, fingers still touching the words, still moving in small strokes between his shoulder blades. “Your soulmate.”

“I’ve come up with a lot of scenarios,” Lance began, and he rolled his shoulders much to Pidge’s surprise. “But I don’t know anymore.”

“I have a scenario.”

“Lay it on me.”

“You forget to buy them a burrito bowl and the first thing you say is the word, ‘shit.’”

He froze, looking over his shoulder at her. Her hand was placed firmly over his back, over the spot his soulmark was. She wasn’t smiling, eyes trained on where her hand was.

“How about ‘sorry?’” Lance managed to say, causing the girl to focus her gaze on him.

“That would’ve been way more unbearable,” Pidge whispered. “I’d lose my mind if all you said was ‘sorry.’ At least you got a nickname while I was growing up.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah. We called you the Shitter.”

“Wow, okay. Probably deserve that.”

A humorless laugh. “A little bit.”

She lifted her palm from the words on his back, giving them a long, hard glance. Lance didn’t turn to face her, instead focusing on his feet.

“Now what?” Lance whispered.

“For starters, you can put your shirt back on.”

Lance obliged quickly, in no hesitation to throw back on his favorite tee. The room grew quiet, save for the sound of cars honking just a few stories down. He turned slowly to face Pidge, who was watching him, arms folded over her chest.

“I think I imagined this differently.” Pidge whispered. Lance nodded, feeling lead in his chest.

“You know I do.”

A long pause. A sigh, stuttering and shaky. “I don’t know what to do now.”

“Neither do I.”

They stood there, neither saying a word for the longest time. Pidge raised a hand to check her watch. “It’s almost two in the morning. We have work.”

“I don’t think I can sleep.”

“Ha! Welcome to my world. I’ll walk you out.”

They shuffled slow to the door, Pidge turning the knob without much a second thought and swinging it open, letting the light from the hall fill the doorway. She was leaning against the doorframe, arms still crossed over her chest, eyes downcast.

“Pidge?” Lance began slowly, halfway in, halfway out the door. She looked up, brown eyes calculating, as they always did. “Are you okay?”

It was a moment before she answered, and Lance kind of wished he waited to drop the bomb on her, confirm both of their hesitations. Was he moving too fast? Was this a bad idea?

“Can we talk about this later?”

It hit him, much like he felt he was hitting ice cold water.

“Sure.”

He wanted to say no, but he felt for Pidge in that moment. She was processing, surely. He was, too.

“Thank you. Goodnight, Lance.”

“Goodnight.”

The door clicked shut in his face, and he stood there quietly, hand raised, poised to knock.

He wanted to talk to her now. Wanted to talk about whatever they were, wanted to just sit and listen to her voice and feel every emotion he had for her in that moment. A crush was probably what he had. Deep infatuation for an idealized version of her, of him, of them.

_ Do you want to fall in love with your soulmate? _

_ Work for it. _

He pulled his hand away, and turned down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we still aren't done. when am i ever done,,,,  
> i hope these chapters made u feel good. or really sad. (i feel both)  
> next time: who knows, still. why can't they just be happy


	8. Conflict and Resolution

“And?”

“What do you mean, ‘and?’”

Keith looked up from his laptop, giving Pidge an incredulous look as his fingers continued to type away. The office was empty, save for the two of them. Hunk and Lance were on a lunch run. Shiro, at a meeting. Allura, business lunch.

Pidge was grateful it was Keith who was left alone with her. After the previous night, she certainly didn’t want to be left alone with Lance. Keith was good. Keith understood her problem, and was willing to listen to her complain about Lance.

That was one of the miniscule things the two had in common: they complained about Lance.

“I mean, are you guys… official?” He hesitated, picking out the word carefully, dark eyes flicking back down to the screen.

Pidge picked at her nails, staring down at the boy as he worked. She didn’t have that figured out yet. All she knew was that last night, Lance McClain came downstairs to her apartment, took off his shirt, and bore his soulmark to her. And it wasn’t just a soulmark, just a few first words Lance had inked on his spine, no. They were  _ her  _ words. Her soulmark.

“It’s complicated,” Pidge decided, which caused the quiet boy to roll his eyes. “What?”

“‘Complicated’ just means you’re trying to run away from your problems.”

“I am  _ not _ running away. I’m stalling. Preparing for the inevitable.”

Keith suddenly sat up straighter, closing his laptop with a harsh shut. He swiveled his chair, eyes narrowing at Pidge as he came to face her fully.

“You didn’t show him yours.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Pidge felt as if a slug was crawling up her throat. She gave a short nod, which Keith acknowledged.

“I’m not saying you have to. But Lance deserves an answer.”

“An answer?” The slug seized its crawling to grant Pidge that much to say.

“You said you’d talk about it later, and made him leave. He has feelings too, you know.”

“I-I know,” Pidge began, slow. “I was just overwhelmed. I mean, if you had a soulmate who just revealed their words to you, how would you react?”

Keith raised an eyebrow in surprise, averting his gaze. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

She nodded, satisfied. “Thanks for trying to help, though. I know you and Lance are best friends.”

“Oh no,” Keith swiveled his chair back, opening his laptop with ease and shaking his mouse to rouse it. “You misunderstood our whole dynamic. I wanna kick his ass.”

It took a moment, of course, before the pair cracked smiles at each other, soft laughter emitting from their mouths in the quiet of the office. The elevator dinged, and they hardly seemed to notice as Lance and Hunk clambered through, holding pizza boxes above their heads.

“Oh no. Keith’s laughing. We owe money to The Jar,” Hunk said, a grin on his face as he settled the pizza on the counter. Lance groaned.

“Why can’t we just be normal and have a swear jar? Why’s it dedicated to Keith?”

“Because last week you walked into the counter and laid down on the floor screaming ‘fuck’ for like, five minutes,” Keith called out, not looking up from his computer. Pidge took note of the mirthful twinkle of his eyes, contrasting the reservation on the rest of his face. She snuck a grin at him. A candid wink in response.

“Ugh. You two are scheming, aren’t you?” Lance called out again. “If you’re gonna do that, at least enjoy the pizza we worked so hard to get for you. We  _ walked. _ No motorcycle.”

“Ah. Truly impressive work, boys.” It was Pidge’s turn to quip at Lance, who grinned in response.

It was odd, how normal it was for them to interact at work. As if the night before never happened.

She thought about the warmth, the softness of his skin beneath the pads of her fingers. The way his shoulders moved as she traced her words, the intimacy of the moment despite the crudeness of the soulmark.

It was as if Lance remembered, too. The grin on his face died, replaced by a contemplative stare, a blush creeping into his visage. Pidge felt color on her face too. She looked away, perhaps too quickly. Stepped away from Keith, strode over to her own laptop in silence.

Hunk let out a whistle.

“What’s with you two?”

“Forgot I have work to do.” Pidge lied. She always finished her work on time. She woke her laptop, staring hard at an empty excel spreadsheet, hoping she looked contemplative and engrossed in work and not in any remotely romantic thoughts.

“Eugh.”

“Hey, so how’s it going with you and that girl from Balmera?” Lance suddenly asked, and Pidge was grateful for how quick he was to distract Hunk and change the subject.

“You mean Shay? She’s so… interesting.”

“Ooh. Is that why you guys spent so long in Allura’s office yesterday?”

“Don’t be gross, dude.”

“What! I’m just  _ sayin’--” _

“Ugh. Ignoring. Keith, cheese or pepperoni?”

Pidge ignored the squabble, eyeing the spreadsheet, typing in random numbers and solving random equations to look busy. A presence seemed to hang over her. Her eyes flicked quickly to the person standing next to her, a person wearing a grey hoodie and placing a slice of pizza next to her on the table.

He didn’t touch her, like normal. No ruffling of her hair, no pokes in her shoulder like she was so used to. The plate came down on the table quietly, and she could feel his hesitation for just a brief moment.

She wanted him to say something. Quip at her. Act normal in a space where normalcy for them was goofy grins and dumb jokes. But much to her discomfort, Lance didn’t do any of that. He just walked away, addressing Hunk again as he beelined towards the kitchen.

Time began to move quicker, the day’s soft blue sky fading into almost black.

Pidge thought she was the last to leave the office, which never did surprise her. Lance had left first today, which Hunk noticed immediately.

“Did you guys have a fight or something?” He had asked as soon as Lance left at five o’clock, sharp. “He usually waits for you.”

Pidge shrugged at him, unsure how to explain the situation to Hunk. She didn’t know if she’d call it a fight. Hell, everything was just confusing. “He’s probably just having a bad day.”

That was earlier, an hour or so ago. And here she stood now, pushing the down button on the elevator, glancing slowly around the office.

“You’re still here?”

The voice caught her off-guard. She spun around, surprised to see Shiro exiting Allura’s office, files in his hand.

“I thought you left.” Pidge said quickly, eyes jumping from his shoes, to the files in his grip, to his eyes. “Sorry.”

“No, no. Nothing to apologize for. Just picking up some… homework.” Shiro smiled at her, waving the files slightly. “You?”

“Loitering.”

Shiro was easy to talk to. She remembered when him and Matt would come home from school, complaining about something their soccer coach made them  do, and Shiro would take the time to sit and talk with Pidge while Matt prepared snacks.

And here he was again, still so eager to talk to her.

They hung out in comfortable silence until they were outside the office building, where Shiro offered to buy her a coffee. Pidge gave a quick nod, walking alongside Shiro towards the nearest cafe.

It was nearly January. She never really noticed when fall transitioned into winter, only wore thicker sweaters and jackets and made sure not to get sick. It snowed a week or so before, she remembered, because Keith, Allura, and Shiro all said they’d be late to work because of traffic and snow. Now, it was piled up between the street and the sidewalk, the soft powdery white look of it melted down to the icy black. Christmas lights were strung up around the buildings, soft bells and carols drifted out of shoppe windows with signs advertising holiday specials.

Pidge felt her stomach drop. This would be her first Christmas on her own.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Doing anything for Christmas?” It was as if Shiro was reading her mind. She glanced up at him, feeling slightly sheepish under his kind gaze.

“Not really. Maybe I’ll sleep in.”

“Allura threw an office party last year. We plan on hosting another this year, if you want to come.”

“That sounds nice. Yeah.”

Allura, right. Pidge still had a lot of questions for her and Shiro. Especially about the whole soulmate thing.

They weren’t soulmates. Not how they were supposed to be, at least.

Pidge stole a glance at Shiro, wondering quietly how that happened. How they just  _ made _ it happen. It was like they wanted to be the other’s soulmate so hard that the universe just seemed to comply.

The scent of coffee suddenly filled her nostrils. Pidge inhaled deeply, stepping through the door Shiro was holding open for her. She liked cafes. Not as much as libraries, or her own bedroom, but cafes were charming and welcoming and peaceful.

“Grab a seat. I’ll buy you whatever,” Shiro said with a smile, waving Pidge off after she asked for a latte. She chose the first table she saw, closest to the windows. Cafes were also good for that, people watching. It was only a few minutes before Shiro came to join her, the corners of his eyes crinkling at her.

“What?” Pidge asked, resting her chin in the palm of her hand, eyebrows raising.

“You seem more relaxed, is all. You were kind of spacey back at the office today.”

“I’m just tired,” Pidge began, knowing the excuse wouldn’t fly with Shiro. The man was like a human lie detector. “Coffee was a good idea. Thanks.”

“Pidge,” Shiro began, and the girl knew that he was preparing one of his lectures. “I’ve known you since you were a little girl. And I want you to know that I trust you as both a friend and a boss. So if you have anything you want to talk about, I’m here for you. One hundred percent.”

A barista walked over, placing two mugs in front of them, steam rising from the hot coffee. They wished them a good evening, leaving briskly for the counter again as the pair stared at each other, silent.

“Allura told me you two weren’t soulmates.” 

She didn’t know why she blurted it out, but something in her was eager to ask, eager to hear the rest of it from Shiro. His eyebrows quirked up, hand reaching out for the mug set in front of him.

“That’s what you want to talk about?”

“You’re here for me. One hundred percent.”

“Hah. Right,” Shiro paused, taking a sip of the hot coffee he ordered, contemplative. “No, we’re not soulmates.”

“Elaborate.”

Shiro let out a snort, watching Pidge over the brim of his cup. “You’re not going to let this go, are you? Cause it’s kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

He lowered the mug, watching Pidge, who waited for him to speak, a small grin on her face. She nodded, indicating he could begin. A sigh. A smirk.

“Remember when I had two arms?”

The question took Pidge by surprise. She had gotten so used to the prosthetic she forgot that was all it was; a prosthetic. She nodded, slowly.

“My soulmark was here, upper bicep.” He tapped where he was indicating, frowning slightly. “Their first words to me? ‘Good morning.’”

“Ugh. You got the Generic Phrase curse.”

“I did. Did Allura tell you hers?” A headshake. “Hers says, ‘You have to leave.’”

Pidge nodded, soaking in his words. “You didn’t say them, did you?”

“I didn’t. She didn’t say my words, either. She said my tie was crooked.”

Pidge laughed, lifting her cup to take a sip of coffee while Shiro looked at her, still smiling.

“You guys say you’re soulmates all the time, even though it’s not true.”

“It is true.” There was an intensity in Shiro’s words. “Soulmates are more than just the words on your skin. It’s someone you have--”

“--To work for.” Pidge finished for him, nodding. “I know. Everyone keeps telling me that.”

There was a pause as the two sat there, sipping their coffee.

“How do you know you’re soulmates?” Pidge finally asked, not looking up at him. “Sans soulmarks. When do you…  _ know?” _

Shiro took a long time to answer, downing the contents of his mug, setting it down without so much a clatter. He took a deep breath, and Pidge waited in earnest for him to speak.

“You never do until you make an effort to.”

 

-

 

“Is this Mr. Lance McClain?”

“Yeah,” Lance pressed the phone between his shoulder in cheek, fumbling slightly with the carton of milk in his hands. “This is him, the one and only.”

“Mr. McClain, I’m calling on behalf of the Garrison Flight Branch.”

The Garrison Flight Branch. The branch of the government that Lance has been applying for a job in since before Voltron. They never did accept his application, but it was something he tried for every year since he was still in high school.

“Okay?” He began to pour milk into his Lucky Charms, pursing his lips slightly as he did. He almost forgot he applied again this year, what with the busy work Allura and Shiro piled onto him and dealing with life in general.

“Mr. McClain, we’ve reviewed your application for this year’s aviation training.”

Here it comes.

“I’m calling to formally congratulate you on your acceptance into our program.”

Wait.

“What?” Lance slammed the milk carton on the counter, taking hold of the phone to hear them better. “Sorry, repeat that.”

“You’ve been accepted to Garrison Flight. We just mailed you our information package, and hope to see you in Washington DC in February for orientation.”

“O-oh.” Lance pulled the speaker away from his face, inhaling hard.

Garrison Flight. Being a pilot. A dream he pushed to the backburner because he had a cushy office job and an apartment and a cat and a soulmate to think about.

“Okay. Gotcha. Thanks.”

“Have a good evening, Mr. McClain. And once again, congratulations.”

He hung up, leaning into the kitchen counter, his cell clattering to the ground.

Did that really just happen?

Or was he dreaming?

He forgot about it, the application. He used to joke all the time to Hunk and Keith about it, talking about how ready he was to dump Voltron to do cool pilot things. It had slipped his mind completely in the last few months, and for a second, Lance couldn’t think of any reason why he’d forget about the application, about joking about being a pilot.

Then he thought of Pidge.

Right.

That’s why.

He ran a hand over his jaw, ignoring the beat in his heart and the tingle of his spine. He wished he hadn’t acted so weird today, of course. But she was acting weird too, like she wasn’t satisfied with knowing they were soulmates. Like she was thinking about it and realized she didn’t want Lance as her soulmate.

Or maybe he was just being insecure again. Maybe he was overthinking it.

He wondered, quietly, if she was still at work. If she was ready to talk. Lance desperately wanted to talk to her, to talk about her and him and them and… Garrison.

He felt a knot form in his stomach, squatting down to pick his phone up and wake it, fingers hovering over her name in his address book.

He wanted to talk.

But he wanted to give her space, too. Time to process. To breathe. And Lance realized that he needed that time too, now that he had a decision to make.

He closed his phone, and went back to preparing his cereal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first arc done, so obviously 2nd arc is just new conflicts and more me, crying in the corner  
> SO SEASON TWO COMES OUT THIS WEEK!!!!! i do not know if i'll update before or after it drops. just know that i'm praying for pidgance moments. god i would die for some good ol' lance and pidge interactions
> 
> THANKS FOR READING!!! SEE YOU WHENEVER!!!! LET'S ALL HOLD HANDS AND C R Y WHEN JAN 20 COMES


	9. And You Have to Make Choices

“I have some news.”

Lance looked earnestly around Allura’s kitchen, where Team Voltron was gathered up. It was Allura’s Christmas Party, and her normally minimalist apartment was donned for the holidays, from the lights strewn across the living room to the tree lit up near the window. Everyone was present for the evening’s festivities, which didn’t include much besides eat delicious Hunk-cooked meals and watch cheesy holiday flicks.

Everyone except for Pidge, at least, who called Allura not too long ago to say she was going to be running a little late.

Lance felt a knot form in his stomach. He should wait for her, right? But for some reason, he didn’t want to see her face when she hears the news. Didn’t want to know how she’d take it.

After all, she wasn’t taking his news very well, recently.

“What kind of news?” Shiro asked, a smile on his face. Lance shrugged, hoping he wasn’t radiating nervousness. He wasn’t sure how to break it to the team. Sure, they were like family, and he’s never had trouble being honest with them. But this was… different. This was about potentially leaving the crew to follow some dream he had when he was a freshman in high school. Lance wasn’t sure if he was looking forward to  _ any _ of their reactions.

Rip it off like a bandaid, McClain.

He opened his mouth, ready to speak--

_ Buzz.  _ The doorbell.

“Oh! That must be Pidge!” Allura exclaimed, rushing around Lance to get the door for the girl. Lance felt his chest constrict.

Of course, Christmas wasn’t the right time.

“I hope I’m not too late?” He heard her voice ring out once Allura swung the door open, to which Allura denied as she ushered the girl inside. Lance glanced back at the entrance to the apartment, hoping to just give a slight wave to Pidge and act nonchalant, as if he wasn’t contemplating a hundred escape routes, as if he wasn’t eager to see her.

Instead, Lance had to do a double-take.

Pidge wasn’t one to dress up, he had noticed in the months they’d been working together. She favored jeans and t-shirts and hoodies, and the one time Lance saw her look even remotely put-together was for a charity auction, where she switched the jeans and hoodie for dark slacks and a mint blazer, hair pulled back by a headband instead of letting it curl around her face in usual disarray.

The first thing he noticed about her appearance was her face. She looked less tired, her eyes glowing a bit more intensely than before. Was she wearing makeup? And a new sweater--he’d never seen her wear a floral sweater before. Hell, he was sure she never wore patterns. She was wearing shorts; Pidge did wear shorts before, but they were big and bulky and not so short or so green and, god,  he would’ve remembered if she owned a pair of tights, too.

He realized, finally, why he noticed her face first, the wideness of her eyes and the soft glow of cheeks he never quite admired before. Her bangs still fell over her brow, but otherwise it was neatly tied back into a high ponytail.

And she looked really, really good.

Not that he didn’t think she looked good before, obviously. But something was different. Maybe she was carrying herself differently? Or maybe it wasn’t anything Pidge was doing after all. Maybe it was all him. Maybe she started to look a little different after that night, when her fingers traced the words on his back and the soulmark he felt was so out of reach was suddenly, and absolutely, right there in front of him.

“Did I miss anything?” Pidge was suddenly asking, looking earnestly around the condo, self-conscious hands moving to cover her neck, touch her jaw. She caught Lance’s eye for a brief second, before continuing to gaze around the room.

“Oh! Lance said he had news.” Coran suddenly quipped, taking a long sip of eggnog. “You arrived just in time, Pidge.”

Pidge quirked an eyebrow at Lance in surprise, and Lance found it a lot harder to look at her all of a sudden.

He can’t say it. 

Not here, not like this. 

He knew how’d most of them react. They’d all be proud of him, because they knew he wanted to be a pilot, and lament about how much they’d miss him at work but wouldn’t stop him if he chose to leave. Hunk would cry. Keith would say something douchey, probably. He could predict that.

But then there was Pidge. A shot in the dark. Someone who he still didn’t have completely figured out, even when their relationship should’ve been so clearly defined for him.

Soulmates.

How would his  _ soulmate _ react?

Or could he even call her that, when she still wasn’t talking to him about it? About them?

“So? Spill it, already.” Pidge said, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips. He cleared his throat.

“I, uh, just want to give you all my Christmas present,” Lance began, leaning against the counter, forcing a smile. “The gift of me, Lance McClain, procrastinating less.”

He expected the groans, Keith punching his shoulder while Allura complained about him needing to have done that since day one. Pidge snorted and looked away.

And although Lance wasn’t one hundred percent sure, he thought he saw her smile.

 

-

 

“Can we walk home tonight? Together, I mean.” Lance had asked Pidge as she adjusted her coat and scarf. She stared at him, fumbling a little harder with the double-breasted coat she wore out tonight. She nodded, and waited for him to get his boots on, his jacket. It was just before midnight when the party ended, finally, and Pidge was glad to escape the festive-as-hell Allura house party. She was getting a little sick of hot chocolate and peppermint and arguing the canon of  _ The Santa Clause. _

Their trek home was silent, not that Pidge was surprised. She wondered, quietly, if the way they acted around each other at the party made the others uncomfortable. Subtle eye contact. Talking about the weather in brief, quiet sentences, much like acquaintances. Keith had given her a troubled look when she caught his eye, as if to ask how things were going.

She never did respond.

And she wasn’t responding to Lance now, as the pair walked side by side down the street, away from Allura’s building towards their own.

_ He deserves an answer. _

Right, of course. He deserves an answer and she deserves to be honest, yet for some reason, Pidge couldn’t give either of them what they needed most.

Perhaps it was fear stopping her. Fear of how he’d react.

She was scared of that, in particular. Not knowing how her own soulmate would react.

(If she was still allowed to call him that.)

After all, he’d been acting so strange all night. Not just towards her, no, she had expected that. But Lance’s mind was clearly elsewhere the entire evening, not looking at anyone, staring into space and dropping out of conversations. She wondered if she did something wrong the other night, even though she couldn’t think of anything.

But his mind was just as preoccupied as hers, and she couldn’t help but blame it on their stupid, stupid soulmarks. An answer was needed, one she was still trying to figure out. Questions had to be asked.

“Can we talk?” She was surprised to hear a voice echoing alongside hers. Her head snapped up at the same time as Lance looked down at her. The jinx was confirmation enough. They walked past the apartment complex they shared, up the street, a few rights and lefts and straights, not in that particular order. There was a destination in mind.

The swings felt colder, this time.

She still didn’t know what she wanted to say, either, still didn’t know what she wanted, period. But sitting there in silence, watching her breath fog up like she was breathing fire, gave her some time to figure it out. She just needed a sign, Pidge decided. A sign to help her decide what she wanted to tell him.

And Lance spoke first.

“I got accepted to Garrison Flight.”

There’s her sign.

Pidge didn’t respond, only pushing forward a little on the balls of her feet.

“I’d be leaving Voltron to do it. It’s a year or so of flight training,” Lance continued.

“Long time.” The words finally dropped, and she was surprised at how gravelly her voice sounded.

“Yeah.”

“Are you gonna do it?”

It was a long time before Lance answered. “I don’t know.”

“Do the others know?”

“You’re the first. Which is funny, because I…” Hesitation. “I didn’t want to tell you first.”

She knew the answer, but asked anyway. “Why?”

“We’re…” The words seemed to die in his throat. It was a moment before Pidge heard the swing next to her creak in motion.

She sucked in a breath. “That’s actually what I want to talk to you about. What I’ve been, uh, meaning to talk to you about.”

She couldn’t tell if Lance was relieved or not based on the sound of creaking metal.

“Lance…” Her heart began to beat harder in her chest, threatening to burst. “About us being soulmates…”

“You don’t want to.”

She stopped her mindless rocking of the swing, hands gripping the metal chains so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“I don’t.” She confirmed, and the words felt heavy in her mouth, felt heavier coming out. “I don’t think we should.”

“Why?” There was strain in his tone, and Pidge felt her stomach drop.

“What’s stopping you, Lance? From joining the flight program, I mean.”

“And what’s stopping you, Pidge?” Lance snapped back, which took Pidge by surprise. She faced him, eyes locking with his, and she was sure this was the first time she’d ever seen him look so hurt.

“I--” She stopped herself, searching his face. 

In truth, she didn’t really have an answer to that.

“I don’t know if I want to transfer to Garrison, okay?” Lance began, eyes narrowing. His voice was shaking, and he prayed to any god out there that she couldn’t tell. “I’d be leaving my whole life behind here. And I don’t know why I’m so worried about that, because if I got accepted five years ago, I would’ve taken it in a heartbeat.”

“Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.” Pidge interrupted, suddenly. He raised his brow at her, mouth falling open.

“What are you talking about?”

“‘Things changed when we met,’ something  _ stupid _ like that. Because it’s stupid, Lance. If you’ve been waiting years for this, don’t be stupid.”

Words caught in his throat. He stared at her, uncertain, the words on his spine beginning to burn his skin.

“Pidge, I’ve been waiting a hell of a lot longer to meet you.”

And she didn’t mean to do it, but she felt the tears sting the back of her eyes and clog her throat and made it a little harder to breathe. She stood up, slow. Her soulmark felt like it was on fire. She took in a shaky breath, letting a few tears spill over, knowing full aware his eyes were on her.

“That’s the problem, Lance. I wasn’t waiting at all.”

“Pidge--”

“--I’m glad I met you, Lance.” She paused, inhaling the chilly air. “And because I’m your soulmate, I want you to be happy.”

_ “Pidge.” _

“So,  _ goddammit _ , just say yes to joining Garrison, you big, stupid--”

She felt strong hands grab her shoulders, holding her steady. She let out a gasp, the beginnings of a protest, but Lance was faster than her and before she could say his name his lips were already touching hers.

And it was hesitant, and clumsy, and a lot more sincere than she expected kissing Lance would be like. His lips were soft, she noticed, and his hands moved from her shoulders, one sliding down to touch her waist and the other passing over her jaw, leaving warmth on her skin where the chill of a December night had touched her first.

And Lance was worried he’d moved too fast, taken it too far before he felt her lips move against his in response, shaking hands coming up around his neck to pull him in closer. He almost forgot to breathe, and when he let his lips part to inhale, he certainly didn’t expect her to mirror the gesture and invite him in.

And it was cold out, certainly, but they hardly noticed.

It was a moment before Pidge finally broke it, finally stepped away from Lance to look him in the eye. He was staring at her, patient, and she wondered if he already knew that what she was going to say was going break both of their hearts.

“When do you leave?”

“February.”

A pause. “I’m not changing my mind. About us.”

“The soulmate thing?”

She stared up at him, her hands forming shaky fists, fighting back an urge to shut herself up, an urge that begged her not to say it again. But Pidge was stubborn, and they both knew that, and she knew now that she  _ had _ to say it, if not for her sake but for  _ his. _

She gave a curt nod.

“I don’t want to be your soulmate.”

He exhaled a little hard, and Pidge winced at the sound, an ache in her chest.

“I never thought a breakup would hurt so much.” There was an inkling of mirth in his tone, and she didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry or kiss him again.

“We’d have to be dating first to breakup, you know.”

A hard nod, and Lance wasn’t meeting her gaze, inspecting his shoes as if they held all the answers for him. “I didn’t get to tell you earlier, but you look good today.”

She nodded, sure that she was dreaming. “Thank you.”

“Wanna walk back?”

“Yes.”

He went ahead, and Pidge followed close behind, staring at his back. She focused between his shoulder blades, where she knew underneath the jacket and shirt and written in god awful penmanship were the first words she ever said to him. Her hand lifted to graze over her coat near the spot his first word to her was.

And she wondered, again, if the universe was playing a prank on her.

If the universe knew she’d spend all her life staring at that one word and grow up wanting to hate him. 

If the universe knew that she’d change her mind about him and knew she’d really fall for him. 

If the universe knew that she really, strongly believed that soulmarks weren’t written with intent to fall in love but intent to make the choice to.

And then she wondered if she was making the right choice to let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> season 2 wrecked me and so did writing this chapter  
> y...yeah  
> see u next time


	10. In the Hands of the Universe

It felt like her skull was pounding.

And it took a good few minutes for Pidge to realize that yes, it was morning, and yes, her phone was buzzing angrily next to her face.

God, who could be calling this early in the morning?

She sat up, slow and achy, exhaling through her mouth as she found her nose was stuffy and runny. Her throat felt raw, tired fingers running down her skin. Light filtered in through the blinds of her window, specks of dust that caught themselves in it dancing merrily above her sheets.

And it took a second, but the memories of the night before came rushing back in nauseating fashion. A hand sprung up to touch her lips. Sadness seemed to throttle her bones.

And her phone just wouldn’t stop ringing.

She glanced over at it, squinting as she realized she wasn’t wearing her glasses. The name was blurry to read at first, but she knew that string of letters only slightly better than quantum physics.

“G’morning.” Pidge mumbled into the receiver as she took the call, met by a bitter sigh of relief.

“Geez, you really slept in. Merry Christmas, Katie!”

“Merry Christmas, Matt.”

“I’ve been trying to call you all morning. Mom and Dad really wish you were here.”

A heavy sigh. “Me too. Tell them I said hi.”

“Shiro posted photos from your party last night on Facebook. You look like you guys have been having fun!”

“Mhm.”

There was silence on the other end, save for what sounded like the rustle of wrapping paper and some Christmas flick playing in the background. The sound died softly, and a door clicked shut.

“Katie,” Matt’s voice came through with new clarity, and she could almost imagine him leaving the comfort of their living room to retreat to the bathroom. “What’s wrong?”

She gripped her phone just a bit harder.

“Nothing.” It was a lie, and Pidge knew better than to lie to her brother. Matt let out a soft laugh.

“Poor taste to be upset on Christmas. Come on, Katie.”

And it took a second for Pidge to gather her bearings, figure out what she wanted to say. The details she would have to share, the ones she planned to leave out.

“Okay. Got a few hours?”

It didn’t take a few hours to catch Matt up on the latest details of her life, no, but with the way she blabbered on, it certainly felt like it. Everything. She told him everything.

“Oh,” was all he said once she finished talking about Christmas Eve, and Pidge took the second to dry her eyes again.

“I don’t know what to do, Matt.” She whispered into the receiver, pulling her knees up to her chest. “You’re the older one. Tell me what to do.”

“I think you’re old enough to make your own choices too, Pidge.”

“And I did! I  _ did _ make a choice. Shouldn’t I,  _ I don’t know, _ be more happy about it?” Her voice broke without her meaning to, and a hand flew up to touch her lips again, surprised by her own forcefulness. Matt paused on the other end.

“I think it’s okay to be upset about it,” Matt began, and she reflected on it for a moment, even before he finished what he was trying to say.

“After all, you’re soulmates.”

 

-

 

Exercise was cathartic. A good way to ignore literally everything. Lance wasn’t too big of a health nut, but going for a run on Christmas morning was certainly the best idea he ever had.

Merry Christmas to him, he figured.

And of course, it was always better with a running buddy. Running frenemy, in the case of Keith Kogane, who was running just a bit faster than Lance would’ve liked.

“Can’t you just, I dunno, slow the hell down?” Lance called to the other, who barely glanced over his shoulder as he responded.

“Not everything’s a race, Lance.”

That was a challenge, and Lance recognized it. He caught up to the other with a quick burst of speed, sticking his tongue out as he passed him.

“You’re such a sore loser.”

“Sorry, don’t you mean  _ winner?” _

They went on like that for a few minutes, bypassing one another in a display of physical prowess for probably a mile before they ceased their competition for a much needed break. The chill began to catch up with Lance, who watched his breath catch in the cold air as the two reclined into a park bench.

They were sitting perhaps too close to the swingset, and Lance wondered if it was subconscious thought that brought him back.

“Keith,” Lance began once he caught his breath back, straightening up where he sat, eyes still trained on the swings. “Can I tell you a secret? And you’re not allowed to tell anyone.”

“Shoot,” Keith responded, fumbling with a water bottle.

“Pidge is, uh, my soulmate.”

Keith raised a brow, handing off the water bottle to him. “That’s it?”

“What do you  _ mean _ ‘that’s it?’ Shouldn’t you be more like, ‘oh my quiznak! You finally found your soulmate!’”

A snort. “What the hell’s a  _ quiznak?” _

Lance threw a glance at Keith, frowning. “You know what? Nevermind. I come over to you, hoping you’d give a guy advice, but all you wanna do is laugh at my woes. On  _ Christmas morning. _ I’m wounded.”

Keith stared at him for a moment, expression unwavering.

“Alright. My bad. Just that, you know, I already know you’re soulmates. And honestly, playing the middle man’s pretty tiring.”

Lance gawked at him. “You already knew?”

“If it makes you feel better, I think I’m the only one who knows.”

“It doesn’t, but thanks.”

They fell back into silence, Lance’s gaze falling back onto the swingset. A hand moved, grazing over his lips.

He doesn’t know why he kissed her. Perhaps, at the moment, he was feeling just a little bit helpless. A little bit terrified of what she was saying.

_ “I don’t want to be your soulmate.” _

He kind of wished she’d just stab him. That would’ve hurt a lot less.

“So, what’s the trouble in paradise?” Keith cut through his thoughts. Lance shrugged.

“I don’t think there was ever paradise.”

“Mhm. So what are you gonna do about it?”

The question caught him by surprise.

What he was gonna do about it?

_ “I don’t want to be your soulmate.” _

“I don’t know.” He said it with certainty, with finality. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do.”

Keith stared at him, reading his expression.

“That, or you’re just stalling.”

 

-

 

“Ugh, back to work already?” Hunk was complaining, turning the coffee pot on, a yawn bubbling from his lips. “I miss the holiday.”

“You say that like you’re the only one.” Pidge grumbled, fishing two cups from the shelf, pushing one into Hunk’s hands. “How was the rest of yours?”

“Fine. I took Shay out on a couple of dates.”

Pidge didn’t try to hide the smile on her face, leaning into her friend. “And how’d that go?”

“Ugh. What’s up with you guys wanting all the deets? It went well. Happy?”

“Very. Because  _ you’re _ happy.”

And it was true, really. Hunk was always happy, sure, but since the day he and Shay had met, she noticed he got a bit of a brighter skip in his step, a sort of twinkle in his eyes about work that he never really had before.

“And what about you?”

Pidge blinked, surprised at the question. “What?”

He was grinning. “Any progress on meeting your soulmate?”

Her jaw moved. She almost forgot about it. And she realized, in horror, that she had no idea how to tell him.

“I guess?”

“Sounds mysterious. What are they like?”

Her mouth felt dry. She wanted to tell Hunk, of course she did.

But she didn’t know how she’d explain it.

“Volunteer for lunch run today. I’ll tell you everything.”

He was reluctant about the demand, of course. But Hunk went along with it anyway, and lunch hour came almost too quickly. Shiro was surprised when they volunteered, but didn’t question it as they disappeared down the elevator and out onto the street. She didn’t speak as they walked to their destination, a hole-in-the-wall Korean restaurant Shay had recommended before.

“So,” Hunk finally inquired after their orders were taken and they waited at a table. “What’s up with the whole soulmate thing that you couldn’t tell me at work?”

Her voice took a while to start working again.

“I-it’s…” She paused, surprised at her own hesitance. “It’s Lance.”

Hunk blinked, and she saw the gears in his head turning, his brows raising.

“Oh.  _ Ohhhhhh.” _

“That’s… definitely not what I was expecting.” Pidge said. Hunk raised his hands, shaking his head.

“Sorry, sorry. Just… processing. Uh. Wow? Congrats?”

“Again, not what I was expecting.”

“Well, no offense, but you guys aren’t acting like you’re soulmates. More like you hate each other?”

“I don’t hate him.” Pidge protested, hands folding over each other as she stared at him. “I-I just… I can’t be his soulmate, is all.”

“Why not?”

Her stomach dropped.

“I don’t know. Maybe the universe made a mistake?”

“A mistake.” Hunk stared at her, sobriety in his gaze. She nodded.

“I’m just saying, sometimes the person you’re meant to be with isn’t whose words you have written on your body.”

“You have a point, yeah. But…” He hesitated, picking up a bottle of sriracha on the table they were at, turning it over in his hands. “That’s a heartless way to talk about your soulmate.”

“What?”

“Just my perspective. The whole soulmate thing? Two way street. Did you ever ask Lance how he feels? If he feels the same way, at least?”

She considered it, her guts twisting into knots.

“I didn’t,” Pidge finally confessed. “I didn’t ask him at all.”

“Maybe you should do that, yanno, before deciding the universe fucked up. Who knows? Maybe it’s not the universe at all. Maybe it was just you.”

The food came, and Hunk stood up, grabbing the bag and heading for the door. Pidge followed a step behind, her head beginning to buzz.

“Sorry,” Hunk continued as they entered the street. “But you look like you needed someone to tell you that.”

 

-

 

“I’m leaving Voltron.”

Allura and Shiro exchanged glances before looking back at Lance.

“I-I’m sorry? Did you just say you’re  _ leaving?” _ Allura asked, blue eyes wide.

“Yeah. I got accepted to Garrison Flight. I figured I should go for it.”

“Your face isn’t exactly matching what you’re saying, Lance.” Shiro said next, eyeing the boy, a hand tapping a pen on Allura’s desk. Lance winced, a bit flustered by how perceptive Shiro could be.

“I-I just came to tell you guys before announcing it to the rest of the team. So we could, like, arrange for my leaving, or whatever. I’d  _ love _ a proper goodbye party.”

“Hold on, Lance. Slow down, will you? What’s the rush?” Allura was watching him, her expression changing to one of surprise to one of concern.

“No rush. Just ready to, uh, get started on the next chapter of my life and shit.”

“You’re  _ shaking,  _ Lance.”

He glanced down at his hands, surprised to find that the boss was right. He was shaking, definitely. Trembling would’ve been a better word to use.

“Sit down, will you?”

He did as he was told, falling back into the seat facing Allura’s desk, suddenly more aware than ever of their eyes on him. Allura let out a sigh.

“I-I shouldn’t be so upset about you leaving. My apologies. Congrats on getting into Garrison Flight.”

Lance nodded, and wondered quietly if he was supposed to be feeling so numb.

“We can discuss your resignation tomorrow. If you’d like, we can call a team meeting and announce it.”

“We can just shout it from right here, can’t we? Not a fan of formalities.”

“You literally just asked for a goodbye party.”

“That’s the kicker, Allura. It’s a  _ party.” _

She smiled at him. “I was hoping you’d make a joke. I’m not very fond of serious Lance.”

_ Neither am I, _ Lance thought. He sat up straighter, hoping he wasn’t shaking any harder than he was moments before.

“So, am I free to go?”

Allura waved him away, and Lance stood up a bit too quickly, dodging around his seat to the door. He was more than relieved to escape the two, feeling their stares burning into his back. He swung the door open, expecting that, for the day, he was done dealing with thoughts and feelings and emotions.

But Pidge was standing in front of him.

And she seemed just as surprised as he was that they’d meet at their own workplace.

“Pidge,” Lance said, and he wanted to smack himself for sounding so surprised. She looked away from him, down to the files in her hands.

And it was like she was hesitating. And Lance was hesitating too.

And the universe was holding it’s breath.

“‘Scuse me.”

She walked past him into the office, the door closing behind her with a soft shut.

His soulmark began to buzz again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not much happens this chapter, apologies for that! just gotta tie up some loose ends before diving into the rest of the story hahaha!!  
> thank you guys a TON for your responses to the last chapter!!! i'm glad you liked it and/or screamed at it, LMAO. i can't wait to keep the momentum up!!!  
> ALSO thank you for 200+ kudos and 2000+ hits! i'm rly surprised and super duper grateful!!! oh, and also for talking about it on tumblr. winks. nudges. (i feel bad because i really just lurk the tags rather than contribute, LOL;; maybe some day haha)  
> OH!! and if anyone wants to, i've opened a discord server to talk about pidgance ;-) if you want it you can message me i suppose? it's open 2 anyone!! haha  
> ANYWAYS  
> NEXT TIME: **:3c**


	11. Heartbreaking Things

“You’ll catch flies, Hunk.”

Hunk’s jaw snapped shut, and he stood up just a bit straighter, scrutinizing Allura. “Sorry. I’m just. Yanno,  _ what?” _

He directed his gaze to Lance, who was standing ramrod straight next to Allura, his face pointed downward.

“I’m joining Garrison Flight. I leave next month.”

“Just like that?”

He looked up, furrowing his brow at Hunk. “Just like that. Why?”

“N-nothing. I just…” The boy trailed off, his gaze flicking to Pidge, who wasn’t facing the team, preoccupied by whatever was on the screen of her laptop. “I guess I’m surprised, is all.”

“Me too.”

Allura cleared her throat, continuing to congratulate Lance before clapping her hands and pushing the team to work. Lance didn’t look up as he passed Hunk and Pidge, aiming straight for his desk. Hunk sat down hard at the worktable, eyeing Pidge.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Pidge tensed at the tone, lifting her gaze from her computer and turning to face Hunk.

“Why would I?”

“Because, you know--”

“I do know.” She hissed, looking back down at her screen. “And I think we should be proud of him. Happy for him.”

Hunk stared at her, his mouth a firm line. She could tell he wanted to say more, was planning on it, but he must’ve been thinking of her because instead he went back to his laptop, tapping away on the report he had been writing.

_ “That’s a heartless way to talk about your soulmate.” _

She clenched her fists, gazing at the type on her screen. Force the thought away, focus on her work. Do everything she can to not think too hard on it.

She had been better off, not knowing who her soulmate was. Better off, because Pidge always had something more important to think about than the words etched into her skin.

Heartless?

A pang stabbed her chest.

Pidge wasn’t all that great at admitting when others were right. Not when she was Katie Holt, a certified genius. Being wrong was almost as likely for her as her chances of meeting her soulmate.

But she  _ did _ meet her soulmate, which really fucked those odds.

Focus on work.

And Pidge was doing a good job at that, focusing on her work. So good, in fact, she almost didn’t realize it when lunch rolled around and sticks had to be drawn.

Focus.

She pulled a lunch stick.

Focus.

So did Lance.

She wondered what Hunk and Keith were thinking, who had both glanced between the two, then at her, then at him, concern in their eyes. She shook her head. She didn’t look at Lance to see how he was faring.

Shiro raised a brow.

“Is there a problem?”

Pidge opened her mouth to speak, but Lance was quicker.

“Nope. Just thinking about what we should get.”

And he looked at her, and she caught his eye. A casual grin. A grin that seemed to beg her not to say anything that would make things worse.

Pidge nodded, robotic.

“I’m thinking pizza.”

 

It was one of those relationships that you couldn’t quite label anymore. That’s what it felt like their dynamic was coming down to.

Lance watched Pidge talk to the cashier, gesticulating as she placed their order. He fussed with a loose thread on his shirt.

Were they lovers?

Obviously not.

Were they soulmates?

Fun fact about that, Lance didn’t know anymore. In the literal sense, they were. Her words still were on his back, he knew this. His words, more than likely still on her. But in the sense of  _ soulmates,  _ well, that was a different case as of Christmas Eve.

Friends, at the very least?

Lance picked a little harder at the thread.

“She said ten minutes,” Pidge came back a moment later, waving a receipt under his nose. Her eyes flicked away from his face, shoving the receipt into the pocket of her jacket, sliding into the nearest booth. Her hair fell back around her face, eyes downcast. It was a full ten seconds before she got her phone out and went to scrolling through her social media.

Lance was starting to get a little sick of the smell of pizza.

“You excited?”

He looked up from the tiles of the restaurant, turning his head to the sound of her voice. She wasn’t looking at him, instead reading an article.

“Excited?”

“About Garrison.”

“Oh.”

Lance nodded, before remembering she wasn’t looking, unsure if she would look at him again.

“Yeah. I finalized my application last night. Never been to DC.”

Pidge nodded, slow. “What about Blue?”

“Oh. Allura said she’d take her. She loves cats, so I figured…”

His voice died, and he let out a cough. “I think I’ll miss her a lot.”

It was a moment before she responded.

“Of course. Your soul _ meowte.” _

The old joke drove an arrow into his chest. Lance let out a breath.

“Soul _ meowte.” _

And he didn’t intend to, and he supposed neither did she, but they both asked the same question, barely skipping a beat between.

“Can we talk?”

She had looked at him. Her eyes were wide and soft brown and her lips parted in surprise and Lance felt the crushing weight in his chest only squeeze tighter around his vitals.

The pizza girl called Pidge’s name.

And despite the question, neither spoke again. Not until they reached the office, not until Allura thanked them.

“Of course, Allura. We’re _ the _ dynamic duo.” Lance forced himself to say, and he found his elbow bumping gently into the girl’s arm. Pidge nodded, a smile forcing through the cracks.

“The best pizza delivery team out there.”

And she excused herself, returning to her workbench, already prepped to work. Lance admired her ethic, admired her ability to just jump back into focus. He never could maintain that.

His eyes flew back to the kitchen, empty plates stacked neatly between the boxes of pizza.

And hey, old habits die hard.

“Who’s going to feed you after I’m gone?” Lance managed to quip, settling a plate in front of her. She didn’t look up, but he noticed her fingers slowed their typing.

“I’ll manage.”

“Will you?”

She didn’t respond at first, her glasses reflecting the light of her laptop screen.

“Dunno.”

He got up to leave, surprised to hear her call out again.

“Can you wait for me today?”

Part of him wanted to say no. Come up with an excuse as to why he couldn’t walk home with her. Perhaps the part of him that didn’t want to confront the new darkness between them. Perhaps it wasn’t the darkness he was so afraid of, either.

Keith’s words echoed in his head.

_ What are you going to do about it? _

He wondered if it was normal, to not want to break your soulmate’s heart when you know you’re thinking heartbreaking things. When you wanted to say heartbreaking things because they deserved to be said.

And he wasn’t sure, either, whose heart would break more than it already was.

“Sure,” he said, and went back to work.

 

She realized, as they walked back, that she didn’t know what to say to him.

Stupid. She’s the one who wanted to talk.

(Though, Pidge figured, that wasn’t entirely true.)

Her breath was still visible. It was still so very cold. Despite herself, Pidge’s eyes looked skyward.

That was the thing about the city. She couldn’t very well see the stars, here. Only blue.

Her eyes flicked to Lance, who was placing the hood of his jacket over his hair. His eyes were blue too. Like, dare she say it, the depths of the ocean. Or perhaps, even more relevant, the vast emptiness of the night sky above her.

It takes a certain kind of courage to admit when you’re wrong, Pidge was beginning to learn.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology came out quick, and Lance tilted his head to stare at her.

“You’re sorry?”

“About the other night.”

“Oh.”

A car honked. Pidge nodded.

“I’m not good at this. The whole… you know. Soulmate thing.”

Lance let out a laugh. “Really? I don’t think I’m doing that great, either.”

She let out the breath she was holding. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… I don’t know. You’re probably right.”

“About…?”

Lance fell quiet, and he stopped his pace, eyes focused on Pidge’s face, and Pidge realized she was going to dread his next few words even before he said it.

Because he made the same face when she said it too, on Christmas Eve.

“I don’t want to be your soulmate.”

She nodded, her brow furrowing. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“That’s all?”

Lance paused, searching her face. “I mean… Was there anything more?”

And she wanted to say yes. God, how badly she wanted to say yes. But when she tried to figure out what that meant, what he meant by  _ more, _ Pidge could only draw up so many blanks.

“Guess not. I’m relieved, actually. I wasn’t sure if we were on the same page.”

They picked up their walking again, Lance nodding.

"Neither was I.”

“I mean, I guess I wanted to ask you that, how you really felt about… not being soulmates, anymore.”

“To be fair, we are still soulmates.”

She snorted, and it felt a little nice to laugh at him again.

“You know what I mean. How… how do you really feel, Lance?”

It was a long time before he answered. He held the door open for her to the apartment complex, pressing the button on the elevator, silent.

And when Lance figured he’d be saying heartbreaking things...

“I feel fine,” didn’t cross his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHORT CHAPTER!!!!  
> this was a hard chapter to write haha. probably the most emotionally draining so far? titled appropriately, methinks  
> we're not done but it'll be ok probably  
> l8r


	12. The Subject of Last Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :-)

Hellos had always been the hardest part.

The way someone said hello to you, the way you said hello back; the very first words you say someone were always a form of hello. You never knew if your words would be on their skin, if their words were etched on yours.

Hellos were difficult. You often had to think of your words carefully, to be absolutely certain you weren’t making a mistake.

Yet, for the moment, Pidge was finding goodbye to be even harder.

He didn’t look her in the eye, when he came over to affectionately muss her hair up. She figured they couldn’t go back to normal, even if they both were acting like things would be okay between them. She figured the rift between them was far too wide to ever be able to jump again. She figured, again, that this was for the best.

After all, she wanted Lance to be happy; and perhaps happiness wasn’t going to be found in his soulmate, but in Washington DC, piloting.

She nibbled a little harder at the fries she was eating as Lance walked away from her to go comfort Hunk, who seemed the most visibly hurt to see Lance go.

“Come on, Hunk! If you start crying, I’m gonna start crying. And you _know_ no one wants to see that.”

Hunk sniffed, gripping Lance by the shoulders and nodding. “I know, I know. I’m just gonna miss you. A lot. Like, is there any way we could convince you not to go?”

Lance threw a look to Allura, a grin on his face.

“I mean, I could get a raise.”

Allura grinned back.

“I don’t suppose I’m _too_ sad to see you go.”

They shared a laugh, and for the first time since Pidge began working at Voltron, she felt like a stranger.

Someone was tapping her elbow, forcing her to slide her chair over to make room for the stranger sliding in next to her. She didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

“How are you feeling?”

“Nosy,” Pidge said flatly, dipping another fry into ketchup and shoving it into her mouth.

“Really? Cause my instincts are telling me,” Shiro dipped his head to her level, a contemplative smile on his face. “You’re going to miss him.”

She tapped the tip of his nose with the ketchup-dunked fry, unfazed by the accusation. Shiro let out a snort, wiping the condiment from his face.

“Okay, okay. I guess you can keep up your cool facade today.”

_“Me?_ A cool facade? You must be confusing me with Keith.”

“Am I?”

“Please, Shiro. I’m _actually_ cool.”

Shiro was smiling again, satisfied with the answer and the belief that Katie “Pidge” Holt was absolutely cool and not at all going to miss Lance. Sometimes instincts were just plain wrong.

(Or they weren’t, and she really was going to keep her cool facade up.)

After all, it was a goodbye party. And goodbye parties weren’t the time or place to act any less than cool or happy or joyous at the occasion. There were balloons. You can’t be uncool with balloons.

That was what Lance said.

She watched as he made his way around the office, chatting softly with the group, holding Hunk as the boy teared up and buried his head in his shoulder. Lance was pleasant with Keith, of course, because even if the two were verbal about hating each other, it was clear as day to all of them that the pair considered each other their best friend. He was pleasant to Shiro, Allura, and Coran, obviously, because Lance may joke about not listening to them but he did have respect for their work.

And as the party winded down, Lance sat in front of Pidge, hands folded on the table, eyes wide and hopeful and the inklings of a grin began to form on his lips.

“Hey,” he began, and Pidge wondered if she should see a doctor about pains in her chest she’s never had to deal with before.

“Hey,” was her response.

“Working still?”

“Obviously.”

“Considering this is supposed to be a party…” Lance trailed off, quirking a brow, and Pidge found herself smiling.

“Got it. Workaholic and all that. How’s the party?”

“Awesome, duh. It’s a party. In my honor.”

“You’ve never done an honorable thing in your life.”

A fluster. It was strange, how she still did that to him.

“S-shut up.”

“Mhm. When’s your flight?”

That caught him by surprise. Lance stared at her, working around the lump in his throat.

“Tonight. I-it’s tonight.”

She raised a brow, struggling to keep her composure. “Oh.”

“Y-yeah. Too soon?”

“Did they… they want you that early?”

“Something like that.”

A pause.

“So when are you leaving work?”

“Early. In like, another couple of hours. I mean, I have to get my stuff. Then get to the airport. And, uh, yeah.”

“Yeah,” Pidge repeated.

His phone buzzed, and Lance stood up, offering Pidge an apologetic smile.

“Mom’s calling. You know how they can be.”

“Take care of it. I guess I won’t see you later?”

He paused, looking between Pidge and the cell in his hands. A soft sigh.

“Probably not. You’ll take care of yourself, right, Pidge?”

Her breath hitched, for barely a second.

“You can call me Katie.”

The phone stopped buzzing, and Lance stared at her.

“What happened to reserving Katie for loved ones?” Mirth in his tone, of course.

She nodded. “Yeah. That’s why. I figured you should get to call me that once, before you leave.”

“Before I leave.” A heavy exhale. “Okay. Take care of yourself, Katie?”

He was hesitant in saying her name, like it was an object he was lifting that he didn’t expect to weigh so heavily. She didn’t expect it, either. She didn’t expect to want Lance to call her Katie again.

“You too, Lance.”

And that was heavy, too.

It never occurred to her, saying goodbye to her soulmate. It was always about the first words, never the last. Nobody ever spoke about the last words, if there were words at all. Nobody had a reason to delve into the subject of last words.

She was beginning to understand why.

 

She didn’t say goodbye after that, not when he pressed the buttons on the elevator and disappeared from Voltron Industries. She wasn’t sure how to go about that confrontation, either.

And it made her feel a little empty inside.

A little empty, a feeling she never expected to have when it came to her soulmate.

And she looked up at the clock, surprised to find it was clocking out time, and Pidge didn’t find the motivation to stay overtime.

She half expected to turn around and find Lance there, already forcing her out the door, babbling about how her workaholic tendencies weren’t healthy. But he wasn’t there, and Pidge had to remind herself of that fact, that at this point in time he was at the airport and she was still in the office and he was on her mind and she wondered if she was on his, too.

The elevator was slow coming up and even slower bringing her down. Coran had left early; she heard something about him escorting Lance to the airport.

The office doors were heavy.

Someone was waiting for her outside.

“Hey,” Keith said, and Pidge blinked the night out of her eyes to stare at him, silhouetted in the dark, one arm holding out a bike helmet to her.

“Hey?” Pidge said, finally, staring at the helmet. “What’s up?”

“You really expect me to not notice you being super mopey today?”

“Well,” Pidge regained a bit of her composure, furrowing her brows at the older boy. “I definitely didn’t expect you to be waiting out here with a bike helmet.”

Keith regarded her for a moment, a soft twinkle in his eye. He waved the helmet at her, and Pidge eventually picked it up between her hands.

“What are you doing, Keith?”

“I miss him.” The answer came simple enough, and Pidge raised a brow at him. “He’s a piece of shit, yeah, but he doesn’t belong in DC. You know that as well as I do.”

She took a moment to twirl the helmet in her hands. “I don’t know that.”

“The hell are you talking about?”

“I said _I don’t know that!_ He wouldn’t have left if he didn’t belong there. We should just let him go and be happy flying planes or whatever.”

Keith leaned against his bike, staring down at the shorter girl. “You’re not really thinking that, are you?”

“No,” Pidge said, and tears began to prick behind her eyes. “I think I’m a god awful soulmate.”

“Admitting it, huh?”

“Yeah. I am. I wasn’t… thinking about him or us or _whatever._ I was thinking about every possible way the universe fucked up the soulmate lottery and how I could convince myself I don’t have to be with him just because we’re soulmates. I-I was so worried about making things work that I…” She inhaled, and her fingers trembled around the helmet. “I ended up not making it work. I-I didn’t try to make it work at all.”

“Caught up in the moment of finding a logical solution that you forgot the obvious one?”

“Yes. Exactly that.”

Keith nodded at the helmet in her hands, walking around his bike and swinging a leg over. “So, what is it? Your obvious solution?”

And it took Pidge a moment to realize what he was asking her to say. The one thing she had been hearing from everyone, the few words she ingrained so deeply into her rhetoric that she almost forgot it was what she was supposed to be doing after all.

_Work for it._

It wasn’t a fact of life, of course; that was, perhaps, Pidge’s first problem in trying to figure out how to be a soulmate. It wasn’t just the idea of making things work out, wasn’t just the idea of fixing a relationship that wasn’t broken in the first place. It wasn’t the first step of the scientific method.

She put on the helmet, stumbling a bit as she clambered behind Keith, wrapping her arms around his waist as the boy peeled away from the curb.

_Work for it._

The bike almost slid on frosted roads, and Pidge was grateful she was wearing a helmet.

Not science. She wasn’t supposed to look at it as science. Lance McClain was a real person with real feelings and a beating heart and no hypothesis and what-ifs and maybes could ever predict how things were supposed to work out.

They ran a red light, but Pidge would have to scold Keith for it later.

Pidge had always believed in science and the things that were right in front of her. She believed in facts. Facts were concrete evidence.

And at the moment, she was very aware of a few facts, like how the sky was sometimes polluted by city smog and dark blue and hard to see in the city, or how the grass in the park looked sort of like straw in the winter, trampled by other kids who sat in the swings and swung back and forth and back and forth in attempts to escape reality through Newton’s laws of motions.

Or the fact that he always made her lunch when she was working.

Or the fact that Lance liked tiramisu ice cream but not as much as mango and pineapple sorbet--two scoops, waffle cone, or the fact he had a cat named Blue, (who was possibly his soulmeowte.)

Or the fact that Lance forgot to buy her a burrito bowl, or the fact that his very first words he ever said to her were "shit."

Or the fact that he kissed her. He kissed her, and she said she didn’t want to be his soulmate.

Or the fact that Lance McClain is her _soulmate._

Or perhaps, the most damning fact of all, the one she was beginning to come to terms with as the wind whipped up her hoodie and chilled her fingers to the bone.

She loved him.

And she almost didn’t notice when the bike slowed down and they were parked right outside the domestic flights terminal. Keith took off his helmet, exhaling hard.

“What are you doing? _Go.”_

She almost forgot to take her helmet off, not wasting a second to brush down her hair as her legs carried her through automated doors. Her eyes glazed over at the list of flights, and frustration began to pick away at her thoughts.

It’s too late.

It’s too _late._

Pidge forced herself to move, scanning the grounds for the nearest information desk. Her calves were burning, her lungs threatened to ice over and eat her words.

The attendant had dark hair, neat and pulled together in a bun.

“How can I help you, miss?”

She sniffed, and Pidge wished she was wearing something thicker. The attendant looked at her in concern.

“Miss?”

“Washington DC.”

“Excuse me?”

She forced her jaw to work again. “Uh, the next flight to Washington DC. When is it?”

The woman looked away, tapping away at a keyboard, the sound rattling her teeth. “The earliest flight leaves tomorrow morning at six.”

“No. I mean, what about tonight’s flights?”

A pause.

“The last flight’s about to take off, I’m afraid. No seats available.”

“Oh.”

It felt like glass was shooting through her veins.

“If you like, we can board you for the early flight tomorrow--”

“No thanks. I’m good,” Pidge answered quickly, and she stepped away from the desk.

The adrenaline was wearing off.

Pidge forced herself to walk outside, and Keith sat up straight on his bike once she stumbled through the doors.

“Is Lance--?”

“Yeah.” She cut him off, adjusting her glasses. “Yeah.”

“Are you okay, Pidge?”

“Fucking _awesome._ Take me home?”

He nodded, and Pidge was grateful Keith knew when to be quiet, when to drive carefully.

And Pidge was too worn out to notice, but her soulmark was buzzing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy valentine's day!  
> next chapter is soon. very soon. it's 5am. i am wilting a lil


	13. In Three to Five Words

Keith offered to walk her up, but Pidge figured they both had had enough of an adventure for one lifetime. Chasing down soulmates through an airport, right? Something about it was almost too good to be true.

“See you tomorrow,” Keith said, giving Pidge’s shoulder a squeeze. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“You’re acting like I just got stabbed.”

It was a moment before the older boy spoke again, a somber glint in his gaze.

“Something like that.”

She figured she should take the elevator, for the first time.

She punched the number for her floor, leaning hard against the back wall. Her legs ached and ached and ached.

_ That was crazy, right? _

_ What did I think was going to happen? _

She pressed two fingers against the bridge of her nose, exhaling hard.

_ Obviously that wasn’t going to work. _

_ Stupid. _

The doors slid open, and Pidge forced herself to move down the hall.

And really, what was she supposed to think was going to happen?

(And the universe really does have a funny way of letting you know how things happen.)

She almost didn’t register it, at first. The suitcase propped up next to her door, the person sitting against it, hands drumming over thighs. She blinked once, twice to make sure. Checked behind herself to make sure they were alone in the hall, or perhaps to check she wasn’t dreaming.

Logically, it shouldn’t have been him. At this moment, Lance McClain would be on a plane to Washington DC, and he should’ve been imagining himself in the pilot’s seat the whole way there.

Lance McClain wouldn’t be sitting on the third floor of their building.

Lance McClain wouldn’t be leaning his head back, earbuds in and eyes closed, against the door to her apartment.

And yet, there he was.

No mistaking it.

Her bag fell from her shoulder, landing with a heavy thump on the floor, startling him. He moved his head, languid, eyes fluttering open and shining with unmistakable lapis glitter.

He took his earbuds out of his ears, a smile forming on his lips.

“Oh. Sup, Katie.”

Her jaw went slack, and Lance was grinning a little wider.

“How much overtime did you even do today? Like, you would think a party would be motivation to not work, but  _ obviously _ you don’t know what the definition of a party is.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The words tumbled from her lips without her meaning to, and she wondered if Lance could grin any larger.

She liked that grin. She wasn’t expecting to see that grin.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“I want to kill you. I almost died at the airport.”

“Haha--wait,” the grin on Lance’s face faltered for a second, eyes wide. “You--you went to the airport?”

“Yeah. Went looking for you. If you were just going to come back here, next time just--just say so, would you?”

Lance clambered off of the floor, spreading his arms as he walked towards Pidge. “Okay, yeah, I guess a warning would’ve been nice--”

_ “Would’ve?” _

“Point taken. I should’ve said something. But I was trying to surprise you. You know, like a super romantic soulmate should.”

“What do you think  _ I  _ was trying to do? I chased after you. On a  _ motorcycle.” _

“You and your one-ups. Now, am I going to keep standing here like a fool or are you going to hug me alread--wait, a-are you crying?”

Pidge stopped, raising a hand to touch her cheek, surprised to find that her stupid idiot soulmate was right about the tears dripping down her face. She inhaled sharply, glaring at Lance as the corners of her glasses began to fog up.

“I-I thought you were gone.”

Lance’s arms dropped from their raised positions, and he offered her a smile.

“You know, if we’re going to make this work, you should know that you can’t _ ever _ get rid of me, Katie.”

“God. It’s so weird to hear you say that.”

“I like saying it.” His hands rolled out to grasp hers, and he pulled her a little closer to him, the warmth of his fingers enveloping her cold ones. “And I’m sorry. There. First of probably, like, a hundred apologies I owe you.”

She shook her head, hard. “I should be apologizing, too.”

“Apology accepted.”

A beat passed in silence, and Lance tightened his grip on Pidge’s fingers. “So.”

“So?”

“I-I don’t know. Didn’t think I’d get this far.”

“Making things up as you go along?”

“I like to think it’s part of my brand.”

She let out a snort, despite herself, forcing tears past her lashes. “God, what am I going to do with you?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but he paused, staring down at her. Her cheeks were red, perhaps from the cold or from the way she was forcing herself not to break down sobbing-- he knew that look well. The tremble of her chin, the quivers in her fingers, the bubbling of more tears at the corners of her eyes. She didn’t ask that question angrily, he realized. She wasn’t mad at him, even though Katie Holt really had every reason to be mad at him right now.

He didn’t leave.

Lance let out a breath. 

Pidge beat him to speaking.

“Want to come inside?”

He nodded stiffly, and it took barely a moment for Pidge to grab her backpack and open the door to her apartment.

And it was dark inside. It was dark and cool and Lance could feel the ghosts of her fingers on his spine again, sending goosebumps up to his neck. He rolled his suitcase in, settling it gently next to the door, afraid to step any further than the threshold. She left it dark, but Lance let his eyes adjust. He was unsurprised to find her apartment looking….  _ lived in. _ Books sat opened and disorderly in front of her couch, a blanket thrown haphazardly over the cushions as if she had been sleeping there the night before. Cold coffee still sitting in the pot, a box of cereal open on the counter. Dishes left unwashed. (He made a mental note to do those for her.) Lance let out a soft whistle.

“Exactly how I remembered.”

“Dark?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Pidge nodded, taking her glasses off for a moment to wipe away stray tears. She inhaled, careful not to start crying again. Crying wasn’t one of her favorite things; she always felt the smallest bit pathetic, the smallest bit vulnerable. She figured she couldn’t cry in front of anyone else but him; her latest hypothesis.

“You have so much explaining to do, Lance.”

Lance let out a soft laugh, arms crossing over his chest. “Yeah. I guess I do. Where do you want me to start?”

She pointed to the couch, and Lance followed her indication, making his way over. The cushions weren’t plushy, was his first thought. The second was that she was hovering near him, not sitting. He patted the seat. She shook her head.

“You’re supposed to be on a plane right now.”

“Technically, yeah. But I, uh,” Lance shrugged. “I changed it. I now officially leave tomorrow.”

“Why?”

He paused, swallowing the thickness in his throat. “I don’t think I would’ve forgiven myself if I left without actually saying goodbye to you.”

Pidge shuffled her feet, averting her gaze. “You did, though.”

“Nope. Didn’t count.” He was quick to retaliate, and Pidge still couldn’t tell if she found that annoying or endearing. “I mean, I was being stupid. Like, you’re my soulmate, and all I could say was, ‘hey man, take care of yourself?’ Come  _ on.” _

She didn’t laugh this time, and Lance couldn’t help but feel a little bit uncomfortable. He cleared his throat.

“It wasn’t a real goodbye.”

“So you just… dropped everything to say bye?” She was incredulous, and Lance still had no idea if he was infuriated or infatuated by her.

“Nah. I think I dropped everything to say hello.”

Her head snapped up at that, and she looked at him, her gaze hard. She outstretched a hand, running a finger along the shape of his cheek. A sigh left her lips.

“That’s the second most insufferable thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Really? What was the first?” There was a drip of sarcasm, just enough to get the corners of her mouth to turn up.

She sat next to him, careful.

“You can read it for me.”

His heart leapt to his throat.

“Sounds, uh, familiar.”

“Does it?”

“Christ. Okay. Do I need to turn around? Or, like--”

“You can help, actually.”

“Wait, check my pulse. I think my heart rate just spiked and I might be dying.”

“Lance.”

She grabbed his hands, and they were trembling, both of them. Her lips had formed a thin line, eyes searching his for a moment. 

He swallowed around the heartbeat.

She guided his hands to the hem of her shirt. 

They fell silent, wordlessly moving their hands together to help Pidge out of her top. She was pale all over, Lance realized, her skin almost glowing blue in the poor lighting of the room. His hands hovered over her shoulders, her hands touching his knuckles. A shaky exhale escaped her lips as she guided his left hand down, just an inch beneath one breast, to the tattooed word on her side that he almost didn’t notice.

He squinted to see, and her hand moved to grasp his shoulder, steadying herself.

“Shit,” Lance repeated.  _ “Wow. _ Holy shit.”

“Heard you the first time,” she was quiet as she cracked the joke.

He hesitated, his fingers still hovering over the word.

“Can I touch you?” 

A wordless nod. He was slow to move, a thumb rolling over the word in clean, fluid penmanship. His lips parted, and if he wasn’t so deathly aware of the fact that she was half-dressed in front of him, he would’ve leaned in closer.

“Hey, Lance?”

He looked up at her, catching the determined glint in her eyes. “Yeah?”

“I don’t want to be uncertain about it anymore. About being a soulmate.”

He paused, eyes flicking back to the word on her skin, the way her skin glowed in the light of the moon.

“Being your soulmate, more specifically,” Pidge continued, a slight shake to her voice as she adjusted the way she sat. “I’m sort of afraid of it. Afraid that I can’t be who you need me to be and that you can’t be who I need.

“And I overthought it. And I was looking for a way out. And I thought, you know, DC was that. That you’d have what you need, and I’d have what I need.”

Lance let out the breath he was holding. “What was that? The thing you thought you needed?”

Her voice cracked along the seams. “I-I don’t know. I just never imagined that it’d be you.”

And then his hands stopped hovering with uncertainty, catching her cheek and the back of her head, pressing his mouth against hers. She leaned into him, arms wrapping around his neck, parting only just to breathe; and, side note, she liked it, the taste of his breath in her mouth. The flutter of his lashes against her skin, the warmth of his hands running through her hair and across her face. He paused, pulling back reluctantly, forehead against hers, breathless.

“I love you,” she whispered, and Lance was quick to catch the words on her lips before they could disappear.

“I love you.” He repeated. “Holy shit, I love you.”

And they agreed on the fact that it was a better goodbye; even when the couch wasn’t plushy and it took them too long to realize Pidge was half-dressed and Lance was fully dressed and someone had to change. And they found warmth in each other and in the hushed tones they spoke in. And they both had more to say about it, about the words on their skin, the way his handwriting looped on her skin and crashed like waves and the way hers looked almost like an equation that needed solving.

And eventually, the moonlight softened and faded into dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! 4000+ hits... is wild, haha. i'm super humbled. this was a really fun story to write, and i'm so grateful to you guys for joining me every step of the way. saying bye to this is... really, really bittersweet. i'm grateful!  
> so, uh, yeah! that was HBITB! this was the last chapter-ish. the next one's an epilogue. there's still some things left to write!  
> kewl.... you guys know what to do.... if u want to scream at me more btw you can find me [here on tumblr!](http://spacetravels.tumblr.com)  
> [coughs] Y-YEAH...  
> S-SEE U SPACE COWBOY...


	14. Adjustments

“Ugh, what if we don’t recognize him? What if Lance got all big and buff in DC and now we have to live with the fact that Lance is a total hottie?”

Pidge let out a snort, nudging Hunk with her shoulder. “What a  _ tragedy.” _

“I know, right? There’s only one hottie allowed on team Voltron, and we all know it’s Shiro.”

She forced herself to laugh at the joke as Shiro gave Hunk a look, ready to retaliate. Leave it to Hunk to calm every nerve in her body.

After all, it’s been a year since she’s seen her soulmate.

A year since things seemed to make sense.

Lance had stayed the night before leaving for DC the next morning, bothering her into helping him make pancakes, dragging her along to say goodbye all romantic-like at the airport at eight in the morning.

“I’ll be annoying and text you every day,” Lance had joked, planting a kiss to her cheek.

(He did do that.)

“I’ll probably send you ugly snaps of me kissing Blue,” Pidge responded, after the two convinced Allura to let Blue stay at Pidge’s apartment rather than hers that morning.

(She did do that. A three-hundred sixty-five day snapstreak that was honestly all kinds of impressive.)

Impulsively, Pidge glanced down at her wristwatch, and she considered cutting her hair short again as honey waves impaired her vision. A hand shot out from her left, shaking her raised wrist. She glanced up at Keith, who was in charge of holding the god-awful sign for Lance.

(By god-awful, they threw all the glitter they could on it. A dick drawing here and there. Hunk wrote the letter ‘e’ backwards for desired kindergarten effect.)

“You excited?” Keith asked.

“I think I’m going to barf, actually.”

“I’m not in radius, right?”

“Oh no. I was definitely going to barf all over you. Don’t wanna ruin my clothes.”

(She wasn’t particularly dressed up, of course, but these were her favorite pair of jeans.)

“Pidge,” Shiro was talking to her now, and Pidge stood ramrod straight as she gave the older her full attention. “Any idea where Lance’s baggage claim is?”

“Should be right here?”

“Oh, stop worrying, Shiro.” Allura quipped from where she was sitting, a blue gift bag on her lap. “You act like he’s going to get lost getting off of the plane.”

“Uh, knowing Lance? Won’t surprise me.”

“You think he forced the pilots to let him give it a go for a leg of the flight?” Hunk asked, suddenly. The eyes of five others fell onto him. “Just saying. Now that he’s got pilot knowledge.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me. If he asked, I mean,” Coran said, a twinkle in his eye.

“What do you mean, ‘if?’” The voice, the group realized, came from none of them, as far as Pidge could count. In fact, it sounded as if it was coming from right behind her.

She turned around quickly, and before Lance could even greet the group properly, she had barrelled into his arms, forcing the taller to catch her in a spin before planting a hard kiss on his lips. She didn’t care, for the moment, that the others were watching with slight amusement and surprise in their eyes. For all Pidge knew, the world consisted of only herself and Lance McClain.

“Good to see you, too,” Lance finally said, breathless, as Pidge pulled away from squeezing the air from his lungs, her hands still lingering around his sides. She flushed, eyes flicking away from him.

“You didn’t see our sign, loser.”

“Oh, I definitely saw the glitter on the floor surrounding Keith. Great job, by the way. That’s some fine craftsmanship. Dicks are a nice touch. I expect nothing better from you guys.” Lance was grinning hard as he and Pidge got closer to meet the group, eyeing the sign in Keith’s hands.

“Dick drawings were Shiro’s idea,” Keith laughed, and he released one end of the sign to reach out to Lance, the boys grasping each other’s arms as they never would have before. “Welcome home, asshole.”

“You look well!” Allura said, excitement in her tone as she handed the gift bag to him. “We got you a present for when you got back.”

“I should really leave more often,” he joked, and Pidge nudged him with her hip.

“No, you shouldn’t. I’d--” and Pidge caught herself, brown eyes avoiding the amused look Lance was giving her, instead focusing again on the sign in Keith’s hands. “I’ll install flashing LEDs to the welcome back sign if you leave again. The most obnoxious for the most obnoxious boy I know.”

“Will you be able to see them from space?”

“Obviously.”

“Didn’t expect any less.”

And they spent a good hour catching up and talking, all of them. Of course, Pidge knew most of what had been going on in his life; they spent every day texting, skyping, snapchatting. She was always unsure of how people could keep a long-distance relationship; the concept scared her more than soulmates. Pidge was never quite confident they were doing it right, whatever _it_ was. It was already complicated adjusting to having a soulmate. Adjusting to long-distance was difficult, to say the least.

But she figured there wasn't a right way to doing it. There wasn't a right way to be with your soulmate. It was always a matter of compromise.

And it was easier with him, anyway.

They walked back home together from the restaurant the group went to for lunch, hand in hand. She missed it, the warmth in his touch.

“Ready to get back into the swing of things here on the ground?” She quipped, and Lance smiled down at her.

“If you’re here, I definitely am.”

“You’re being sappy. I’m almost disgusted.”

Their steps slowed, despite either of them realizing it, taking in the bustling streets around them. It was weird for them, to be a couple after a year of only doing things long distance. It was a new thing to adjust to, a new challenge to work around.

“Wanna take a shortcut?” Lance asked, almost jokingly, lifting Pidge’s hand to his lips to plant a kiss against her fingers. She grinned up at him, their steps carrying them away from the apartment complex and towards the park.

And she was reassured, completely, that adjusting was what they were good at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe the epilogue took me a month to finish  
> HAHA. i was really conflicted about how to end this. wasn't quite sure what I needed to tie up. i think i'm satisfied with it, though. i like thinking about it, the adjustments they have to make for their relationships. stagnant's no fun  
> but YEAH. this was Heartbeat in the Brain! thank you for joining me on this super fun and long, long journey. i've loved interacting w/ you guys and reading your comments and your support gave me so much life ugu ;v;  
> as always! u can find me on [tumblor](http://spacetravels.tumblr.com)  
> thank u again! see u space cowboy


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